The Confidant
by Fate Likes Fools
Summary: Secrets, no matter how small, can be deadly. She sought revenge, but heard too much. Now she must pay the price - as her silence guarantees nothing.
1. Wrong Place

The Confidant

Chapter One: Wrong Place

_2__nd__ Maggio 1478_

The market place was buzzing with people, but none of them my target. No, the man I hunt isn't one that can be easily found - he knew how to blend in to a crowd in the blink of an eye. Even though this might've been in vain, I didn't care. Blood had to be spilled this night, it was only fair. A hooded man then appeared quite literally from nowhere, a shadow cloaking his face. His eyes were a strange shade of topaz, and the only thing I could associate it with was the _aquila_ I once saw in the countryside, when I was eight. A bird of prey, my mother explained it as. A bird that hunted from the skies. My hand began to tighten around the dagger I had stolen from my father's drawer.

I didn't see a reason why he needed it anymore.

Our eyes met in that instant, and I couldn't help but be frozen to the spot. I saw the faintest ghost of a smile stretch across his lips, and he winked at me, turning and weaving his way through the clump of Florentine people. My teeth ground together, and a could feel a wild fire of fury ignite inside me. I had no time to lose, this might just be my only sighting, and followed after him as inconspicuously as possible, unable to avoid the questioning looks of the people around me. That didn't matter, all that did was to see him dead. It was hard, keeping up with this ghost of _Firenze_, because every other time I'd lose sight of him, he'd just reappear again for a single instance, making me run faster. He came before a large building, draped in red cloth and flowers. A whore house. I couldn't have been less surprised. As soon as he disappeared behind the door, I ran forward and pressed my ear up against the wood, listening as intently as I could.

"Everything is done, I take it?" Came a sultry, female voice.

"_Si_, Paola," his voice sounded as arrogant as I had pictured, "I am once again unknown to the people of _Firenze_."

"Then you have another task at hand." They began speaking of strange things unbeknownst to me, involving such things as Templars and Assassins and - _a plot to assassinate Emilio Barbarigo._ I remembered my father speaking of him, a man who was fair, and upheld the order _Venezia_ was famed for. He was going to kill him, too. My mind darted to all those in power I could write a letter to, that formerly knew my father, that I could warn of this kind of thing. I didn't entirely have to kill the bastard myself - he could hang for treason, either in _Firenze _or _Venezia_. I smiled to myself at the thought, taking off for my house as fast as possible. I didn't realize, nor care about the time, though it was after dark, and the hell I had to pay was waiting for me in the shape of an angry mother.

She slapped me across the face. "What were you doing out at this late hour? That is not the behavior a lady should exhibit! What would Cecilio think if he knew you wondered around at night like a common whore?" Cecilio Birocella was my fiancée. He was just another heir to a mild banking family, the ones that kissed the asses of the Medici, secretly cursing their existence because it should've been _their_ ancestors at the seat of _Firenze's_ power. They, however, knew there was nothing there could be done about it. The _palle_ had control of the city. The man I was being shackled to in question was nothing special. He found my physically appealing, and since I wasn't one for words, he saw this as a good chance to have a silent, obedient wife whom would do as he say without a mutter of protest. I ignored the shrieking woman and ran to her room, grabbing the nearest parchment that came to my hands, and began scribbling furiously, explaining everything I had heard in the whore house, plus of my discovery that the man who killed my father was named Ezio. That name, too, was familiar somehow. I thought hard enough, and my eyes widened in realization - my papa often complained about the Auditore family, and how they became far too close to the Medici in such little time.

My father came home once, boasting that the Auditore were finally dead, and all that was left were the women and one irresponsible son who managed to escape, but was fated to die. An enemy of the city by far. This letter would be helping more than myself - it had to be given to someone other than just any old official. No, this had to be given to Lorenzo de' Medici, the most powerful man in all of the city. I sighed, filled with exhaustion, and with a seal of the letter, I trudged off to my room, slipped into a nightgown, and began to drift, fully aware of the mission I had the next day.

***

No time to lose. I dressed, grabbed the letter, and ran downstairs as fast as I could manage in one of these annoying dresses. I hissed to myself at the sight of, who else, my mother standing in the doorway.

"And now where are you going, Gemma?" My hand clenched into a fist. "Did you not _listen _to me? I'm not allowing my daughter to roam the streets like a cheap whore!" I glared at her, then, turning on my heel and storming off to my room. I wasn't going to pout - no - he'd get away and I'd never be able to bring him the punishment he deserved. I sighed, opened the window, and heaved myself over the ledge, slowly climbing down the side of the building, attempting to disregard the reaction of the on goers below me. I cursed under my breath when a ledge scraped down my ankle, leaving a small gash. _It - doesn't - matter - right - now_ - is what I kept chanting to myself. My feet touched the ground, and I dashed to the _Palazzo Medici_. I was a woman - and I was aware of this - but still, I'd at least have to _try_ bringing the bastard some form of punishment. And, even if it didn't work, there was always the opportunity of killing him myself, it wouldn't be that hard. The _palazzo _towered over me, and when I ran forward to the door, and banged on it as quickly as possible.

"Password?" Came the grunt when the wooden eye piece slid over. I brandished the letter I had from my pocket, presenting it in front of the man. His eyes narrowed. "Who are you, girl?" I pointed to the insignia hanging around my neck, and understanding flashed into the eyes of this man. "So you're Abramo's daughter, eh? _Messire_ Lorenzo, however, is in the middle of a meeting with an important guest. He doesn't have time to play charades with a _muto_, understand?" My eyes were pleading enough, and he groaned. "Fine, I'll give him the letter, alright?"

I shook my head. This could only be given to his hands.

"Well, then, you're out of luck. It's a _private_ meeting." I tilted my head, questioning who was important enough to block my entrance. He snorted. "None of your business, little girl, so run along home and hope that you'll run into _Messire_ Lorenzo in the streets somewhere - though I wouldn't bet on it." He laughed to himself at such a preposterous notion, closing the wood slit shut. I growled under my breath. There had to be another way in, it was a large enough building. A back garden, perhaps? I had to try. I ran around the building, looking around for some form of back entrance. My eyes widened when I saw Lorenzo de' Medici walking towards me, the letter in my hand practically burning. I couldn't take two steps before a hand came over my mouth, and a pair of lips came near my ear.

"That would be a bad idea, _piccina_," he murmured slowly, "I'm sure he's far too busy for something so trivial, don't you think?" My eyebrows knit together furiously. I struggled against him, thrashing and pushing. "Feisty one, aren't you? Much more interesting." Arrogant bastard. I latched on to the skin of his finger with my teeth and bit down as hard as I possibly could. His hand retracted out of instinct, and I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, straight into the chest of Lorenzo de' Medici, who raised his eyebrow. I thrust the letter into his hands, glancing back at the man, who was now … smirking? I turned again to the leader of _Firenze_ who was patiently reading over my letter. He sighed.

"Where did you learn about this?" The man asked quietly. My eyes were wide. It didn't sound like Ezio was going to be arrested, either. "It does not matter, anyway. You are aware of far too much for your own good, and this letter proves it."

I blinked, eyes darting from the assassin to the Medici, unable to think of anything except one single command, mentally spoken to me in my father's voice. _Run and hide_. I did what I was told, dashing again, ignoring the now throbbing sting in my leg, eyes scanning all surrounding areas for something to hide in. A bail of hay, the water, anything. I could hear footsteps following after me mere minutes from my escape - it didn't even sound like he was running. I was being underestimated. I made a beeline for the nearest alley, taking the sharpest turn I could manage, and concealed into the shadows. He walked up, mere centimeters from where I hid and examined all around him. In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the crowd. I was safe, it seemed. I took a step forward, only to be stopped by a short, freezing metal blade up against my throat. I sharply inhaled.

"Now that we understand each other," Ezio said slowly and deliberately, as if to instill fear in me, "it would be best if you were an obedient girl and came with me." He turned me around, and I took this opportunity to glare at my kidnapper with the darkest expression I could muster. He smirked, unaffected by the optical daggers I was throwing at him. "You shouldn't glare, _piccina_, it'll wrinkle your pretty face." All I truly knew was that I wasn't going to be home for an indefinite period of time - considering on how quickly I could escape from this man. He threw me over his shoulder like a common sac, and dashed off into god knows where.

---

**A/N:** **Oh, goodness, my first Assassin's Creed story. I've loved this series since it came out in November, when I played the second before the first. Both were awesome games, though I managed to love the second more than the first. No surprises there, of course. Italy is just so beautiful, and the Italian culture and language has always fascinated me. If I'm doing anything wrong that you know of, please share with me in the form of a constructive review. Thank you. **

_**Italian to English index:**_

_**Aquila: **_**eagle**

_**Firenze:**_**Florence**

_**Venezia**_**: Venice**

_**Palle**_**: Ball (The Medici crest was a shield with balls on it, and they were sometimes referred to as that.)**

_**Messire**_**: Sir, Mister**

_**Palazzo Medici**_**: Medici Palace**

_**Muto**_**: Mute**

_**Palazzo**_**: Palace**

_**Piccina**_**: Little one**


	2. Honored Captive

**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the Assassin's Creed series and am in no way associated with Ubisoft. I'm just a member of the fandom who feels like screwing around with the characters and has no life. On that note, please enjoy. **

The Confidant  
Chapter Two: Honored Captive

Well, damn it. I was in the arms of a murderer, leaping across the rooftops of Firenze like any other _coniglio_ who just drank about five pounds of medication. This man had to have lost his mind entirely. I made it a point to kick him in the gut in my struggle, which he'd been laughing at throughout our little adventure. A sharp _oof_ escaped his mouth, and he gave me a look that reminded me of my mother during her daily scolding session.  
"You're not very cooperative, are you?" He asked, and for my reply, I kicked him once again, this time much harder. He sighed to himself, setting me down on the roof tiles very gingerly. In that moment, he untied some of the red strings around his waist, wrapping them around my ankles, wrists, and eyes. I wished my loathing for him could have burnt through the cloth. "Hey, it's your own fault, this could have been a smooth, painless transition. However, you decided to be uncooperative, so I shall be as well, piccina."

My loathing for this man was steadily building like a slow flame in a cold fireplace - and it didn't help that I didn't even bring my dagger along with me, like the fool I truly was. Instead of man-handling me like before, he lifted me up like an actual human being, surprisingly enough. I began measuring the possibilities of how I could hit him, but there were none, so I just decided to thrash. Give him a little bit of hell, even if it'd do nothing. "You're not making this any easier, you know, keep it up and I'll simply knock you out." I couldn't give him a simple _I'd-like-to-see-you-try_ look, due to the cloth covering my eyes, so I decided to remain silent - it'd shut him up far more quickly. He still hadn't announced our destination, but my thoughts were cut short when he easily leaped off the edge of a roof with a problem in the world, and I clenched my eyes shut. When we landed, and my jaw tensed against the pressure, the urge to kill him was growing stronger.  
"You never told me your name." And I won't anytime soon. "If you do not tell me, then I will have no choice but to just name you myself." And I won't respond, it's as simple as that. We stopped moving, and I hard sharp banging on a door. "Leonardo? Leonardo!"  
"Apologies, Messire," came a nervous, male voice unknown to me, "but Messire Leonardo was commissioned by a wealthy Venetian noble, and had him moved almost immediately. He should be on his way right now."  
"Oh - thank you." Before that poor man could question why this hooded person was carrying a bound woman, he was already walking in the opposite direction. Surprisingly enough, he put me down and untied my binds halfway through. "Any false moves, and I'll tie you up again." I glared at him, the only thing potentially threatening I could really do without my dagger in hand. He led me to a pure black horse outside the gates of the city. My eyes widened furiously. He was taking me to Venezia to find this Leonardo? My hand clenched into a fist, and I shook my head furiously when he tried to help me onto the horse, taking near five steps back. He rolled his eyes. He dismounted the animal, walking towards me as if to grab me and put me on the horse, but I stopped him with my hands, gesturing to the family crest I wore around my neck with the most innocent frown I could muster.

"Do you take me for a _scemo_?" Ezio asked, though his tone was slightly playful. "As of now, in your mind is a very … sensitive piece of information – I cannot let you out of my sight. Besides, you would just try to run away again." He understood that I would take what ever opportunity I had to run. _Merda_. Building trust would have to be priority, but he seemed like a man that would not trust very easily. His family had been hung, after all. He mounted the horse again, and extended his hand out to me as patiently as ever. I'd never even ridden on a horse before, and the first time was going to be with a murderer. Lovely. I smacked his hand away and steadied myself, finally heaving myself up onto the saddle. That is, my stomach was on the saddle. He didn't even try and hold back his laughter at my failure.

"It's going to be amusing having you around," he decided with a smirk, "now stop being stubborn and let me help you up." I huffed in defeat, realizing this was impossible to accomplish on my own, and allowed the man to help me up on this beast. The fact that I had to wrap my arms around his waist so I didn't fall over and die didn't sit very well with me. I tried to hold on as loosely as possible, but when he snapped the reins, and the horse galloped down the path as fast as it possibly could, I had no other choice, and held on very tightly. I could almost feel how smug he was, the bastard. The horse ride was generally silent, something I felt this man wasn't very used to, and during this time he came to, by far, one of the stupidest conclusions I've ever heard.

"I can't not have a name for you, since you refuse to tell me yours," he explained, "so, I'm going to call you _Silenzia_ until further notice, _Sili_ for short." This stupidity filled me with murder frenzy – did he think he was being clever? - but I managed to douse the flames of destruction growing in my brain long enough to notice a man crouched over the wheel of a cart, and the horse abruptly stopped. He had to know this man personally, I couldn't see him helping an unfortunate stranger.

"Ezio? What are you doing here?" I knew it. Ezio easily swung himself off the horse, and when he hit the ground, he attempted to help me off as well. I scowled, shooing him away with my hands. If I couldn't get off this goddamned thing, I was as useless as that letter of mine. He chuckled, but did as he was told for once in his life, walking off to help his friend. I was determined not to make a fool out of myself this time, scanning the saddle very slowly. At this point, the opportunity of escape arose, and I examined my chances of getting away – but the chance was highly unlikely, even if I could get away for at least an hour, he'd still be able to find me again. The man could leap over roofs like it was second nature, how would it be difficult to locate a girl who doesn't even know the way back? With a tiny sigh, I swung my leg over the side, and very hesitantly dismounted the animal, which I could have sworn was mocking my amateur actions as well. I briefly stuck out my tongue at it, and faced the two men, who were in turn, looking at me.

"And who is this?" The man asked curiously. Ezio beckoned me over with a wave of his hand. I glared at him, and stood with my feet planted to the ground. He laughed again.

"This, Leonardo, is my … guest. I'll explain later, but I call her _Silenzia_, because this woman has not spoken a single word to me since our little meeting." So this was Leonardo. He wore a bright red beret, and his brown hair was hanging down from it, though his blue eyes managed to stand out even more than his clothing. Since Leonardo has been found, did this mean we could go back to Firenze? I tried not to get my hopes up. Nonetheless, I decided to be polite, walking forward and extending my hand to this stranger. He returned the gesture without much hesitation, flashing me a bright, boyish, and adorable smile. He seemed kind enough, what was he doing with the likes of this bastard?

"What's this in the cart? It looks like a giant bat." Ezio observed questioningly, staring at the contraption sticking out of Leonardo's cart.

"I really shouldn't talk about it," he answered evasively, but his eyes brightened, filled with excitement, "oh, what the hell! I can't hold it in any longer: Ezio, I think I've figured out how to make a man _fly_!" I blinked, taking in this information. Before I could properly assess this man's sanity, Ezio laughed as if Leonardo was a five-year-old child with dreams too big for him, and answered simply.

"Come on, I'll drive," they went to the front of the carriage, and when I followed, I could easily see there was no space in the front. Ezio smirked, gesturing his head to the back of the carriage. Oh, phenomenal. I was luggage, just like this contraption. He snapped the reins, and so began the first and bumpiest carriage ride I'd ever experienced in my life. Things, at first, seemed normal – Ezio and Leonardo were discussing something I did not care about, but as they spoke, Ezio abruptly stopped, shushing Leonardo.

"It's Rodrigo Borgia's men," Ezio proclaimed, answering both my and Leonardo's question. I could hear a mass amount of galloping coming our way, and I turned to see lightly armored men charging towards the carriage on horseback.

"What do they want?" Leonardo asked.

"I think they want us dead." Ezio quickly ordered Leonardo into the back alongside myself, snapping the reins as hard as he could. I held on an edge of the carriage as the attack ensued, clenching my teeth together as the ride got bumpier and far more dangerous. These men were leaping on to the side of the carriage, much to my astonishment, climbing on and seeming to be aiming for Ezio. In response to this, the crazy driver began steering the carriage side to side, in an attempt to unbalance the attackers. One of them looked directly at me, a manic expression in his eyes, and smirked sinisterly, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling me onto my feet. Despite my fear, I wasn't going to satisfy him with a scream, simply glaring at the bastard, slamming my fist straight into his nose. He tumbled backward with a bellow of pain, falling belly first onto the ground. Leonardo's eyes widened in acute surprise. Even through the chaos, I managed to hear a fit of laughter from the front seat. I couldn't address it long enough, because as soon as that played out, I was grabbed by the scruff of my dress and slashed across the cheek by a sharp dagger.

"_Puttanna_, know your place!" My fist clenched, and I summoned the anger that had been bottled up from my misadventure with Ezio, ignored the pain of my wound, and punched the man square in the mouth, grabbing his dagger right before he fell. I looked over at the man sitting alongside me in the carriage, and his eyebrows were raised in question. I smiled just a bit, and turned to the sight of a nearby bridge burning, holding on as hard as I possibly could as the horses dashed across it, just in the nick of time before it collapsed. That didn't end our troubles, because archers from all around were shooting flaming arrows right in front of the carriage, Ezio desperately steering to evade them. At this point, my heart was racing a marathon, and my mind couldn't properly think. Everything was happening too fast. After what felt like an hour, Ezio finally spoke again.

"Leonardo, go to Romagna, they're after me, not you, I will catch up with you when they are taken care of." He nodded in understanding, taking the reins and Ezio jumped off. He took this time to glance at me, smirking. "Be a good girl for Leonardo, Sili." I scowled at him, but didn't look away when Leonardo snapped the reins and we sped off away from him. I watched as roughly seven to eight men came rushing at him, two of them completely covered in heavy armor. He couldn't be able to survive something like this, and the thought lightened the load on my heart a bit. I could go home once we figure out he's dead, Leonardo wouldn't just force me to tag alongside him in memory of his fallen, idiotic friend. I silently slinked to the seat next to Leonardo as he nervously steered away.

"My apologies for that," he said when we were safely away, "that was frightening, I bet. I suppose Ezio is used to it, but you and I are not." He laughed slowly, giving me another of his smiles. My heart finally decided it was safe to be normal once more, slowing down. "Once we get to Forlì, and I get a hold of some parchment, would you mind telling me your name, so I don't have to refer to you as 'Sili'?" I smiled at this, and nodded in agreement. Finally, a man who was civilized, respecting that I would tell him my name when I decided to, rather than depending on a moronic nickname.

The city of Forlì was somewhat dirty, but fascinating. We didn't spend too much time within the city walls, though Leonardo bought parchment and ink, alongside some quills. We sat down near a box for a surface, and he happily held out the writing utensils to me. I was taking such a liking to this man, and I scribbled out my first introduction.

_My name is Gemma._

"Such a beautiful name," Leonardo said with a smile, "it suits you. Now, if I may ask, what brought you to eavesdrop on Ezio's conversation?" I scowled just a bit at the memory, and leaned over the parchment.

_I followed him._

_ "_Why?"

_He killed my father._ At this, Leonardo blinked slowly, confused, and I began writing more. _He was an official, and just three days ago they found him with stab wounds to the chest, and I saw him do it. I wanted to kill him for revenge – but that's when I overheard everything, and got into this mess._

"I see," Leonardo said gravely, "then I can understand why you look at him so murderously."

_You may tell him my name if he asks, I really do want that 'Sili' nonsense to stop. That is, of course, if he survived the attack, which I doubt._ Leonardo chuckled.

"You do not know Ezio, he has a tendency to escape the arms of death." Wonderful. So I wasn't off the hook. I took in the sight of Leonardo's gentle expression, and began to consider that I might just have a way out.

_Leonardo, I don't want to be here. Being in the constant sight of my father's killer, away from my mother and fiancée, who have no idea where I am or what I'm doing – please let me go back home._ The man heaved a sigh, staring at me with concern. _What am I going to do once Ezio fulfills the deed and I'm sent back home? I'm probably already considered dead at this point – he stole me away from my life._

"It's not like I don't sympathize with your cause, Gemma," Leonardo murmured in a low voice, honestly sympathetic, "but Ezio has a point about keeping you with him. This little situation needs to be taken care of, and if anyone were to hear a whisper of it, it'd all go downhill."

_Do I look that untrustworthy?_ I was hoping this would be read as a demand in a personally offended tone, because that's how I felt at this moment. He shook his head, nonetheless.

"We can't know that for sure, though," he said with a mysterious smile, "for all I know, you could be the biggest gossip in all of Firenze." I gave the man a sarcastic smile, and he laughed aloud at his own witty joke. I couldn't help but smile along with him. We both stood up, and Leonardo led me to the docks, where we had to await Ezio, which I wasn't too keen on. Leonardo could sense my boredom, and shooed me off to go wander, just as long as I was back within an hour, or he swore he'd send Ezio after me, although he said it playfully. I decided to be a 'good girl', just this once, seeing as how I had absolutely no idea how to get back to Firenze, and didn't stray all that far. That, is of course, until I heard Ezio's voice.

"I'm trying to find the boat to Venezia," he said, addressing an oddly dressed woman and her two friends. I raised my eyebrow, concealing myself behind a wide trunk of a tree.

"You're nearly there, friend. Are you in a hurry?"

"Perhaps not." He replied mysteriously.

"You can help us settle a dispute," she said with a smile, "I bet my friend here the first stranger to come along can race the course faster than him." Her smile was flirty, and even I could see something hidden there.

"I suppose that would be me. And if you're right, what do _I _win?" He replied, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Perhaps a private riding lesson?"

"Lend me a horse." Oh, god. This was a sickening sight, and the thought of this woman so easily giving herself to someone like him was disgusting as well. I maintained out of his sight when he sped off on the horse, and watched closely as she shooed her friends away, my eyes narrowing. When he returned mere minutes later, all that was left was her.

"Where did the others go?" He asked, though I heard no actual interest in his voice.

She stood with a mysterious smile. "Home with their tails between their legs, they couldn't stand to be beat. Nicely done, Messire … ?" She said smoothly.

"Call me Ezio. I still have some time for that … private lesson." He walked toward her then, slightly circling this woman he'd only known for roughly five minutes. What was I still doing standing here, stalking the man who _kidnapped_ me?

"It would be my pleasure, Ezio," she said with a flirtatious smirk, "call me Amelia." And with that, she pushed him on to the bed of hay and –

Oh. God. My face turned red at the sight of this, and I quickly turned on my heel rushing off, attempting to ignore the sound. I was so flustered and annoyed at wasting my time witnessing this disgusting spectacle, I tripped and fell face first into a large vat of hay. The noise I made was easily ignored by the two that put me in this state, and I brushed off as much hay off my clothes as possible, and ran off to Leonardo. I needed some form of innocence.

"Gemma?" He could tell something was wrong immediately. "You're blushing, what did you see?" I shook my head furiously, refusing to acknowledge that I'd _seen_ anything, and crossed my arms across my chest. This was going to be such a tedious, annoying trip.

–

**A/N: This was fairly amusing to write, because I remember stumbling upon this random horse racing mission in Forlì when I decided to be a good girl and do all the side quests. This basically solidified Ezio's manwhore-dom, if it hadn't already. A word of caution: If you, the reader of this passage, want to see if this mission exists for yourself, do a bunch of side quests in Forlì, it'll show up on the map as a race eventually. With that said, I hope you enjoyed this week's chapter and will stay linked 'til next Friday. **

**If I'm doing anything wrong that you can see, please inform me in the shape of a respectful, polite review. Thank you. (: **

–

_**Italian to English Index:**_

_**Coniglio – **_**Rabbit**

_**Scemo – **_**Fool**

_**Merda**_** – Shit**

_**Silenzia – **_**A play of words with the term ****_Silenzio_, which means silence. **

_**Puttanna - **_**Whore**


	3. La Bella Venezia

The Confidant

Chapter Three: La Bella Venezia

It'd been well over an hour and a half before Ezio appeared on the docks again, and I made a point of avoiding his gaze, in fear of turning red. Leonardo, on the other hand, was far more eager, beckoning him over with a wave of his hands.

"Thank you, Ezio!" He said. "You saved my life!" I rolled my eyes, wondering if Leonardo would've said the same thing if he heard about his savior's little detours.

"I did what had to be done," Ezio replied, with what I perceived as fake modesty, "you would have done the same."

Leonardo laughed nervously, shaking his head. "I doubt it," he brushed it off, "bravery is not my strong suit. I owe you a debt, brother."

"It's nothing." When one of the men from the boat started screaming for all to climb aboard, Ezio took it upon himself to grab my arm and lift me up off the edge where I was sitting. I blushed, instantly reminded of what I witnessed, and shifted my gaze in an opposite direction.

"I take it you behaved for Leonardo, Sili?" He asked, smirking. His treatment of me was common to that of any other women - a pet. I snatched my arm from his grip and walked off to stand behind Leonardo. Ezio's eyebrow rose, but his attention was directed suddenly to the man standing beside the boat.

"Where's your pass?" The man demanded.

This confused the bastard. "What pass?"

It even confused Leonardo. "You don't have a pass?"

"You cannot enter Venezia without a pass, who invited you?" I was fairly sure Emilio Barbarigo didn't invite him, so Ezio was at a loss. I didn't have a pass either, so I assumed we were stuck here. It was an uplifting thought.

"Um … nobody."

"_Basta!_ No pass, no entrance." I couldn't hold in my grin of triumph, smugly crossing my arms across my chest. No pass, no Venezia. I might just be able to go home.

"Don't worry, Leonardo, I'll come up with something." A likely occurrence. Leonardo glanced at me, laughing at the expression on my face. It, however, shifted when I could hear the shrieks of a damsel in distress. Oh shit.

"_Don't just stand there, help me!_" My heart sank into my stomach when I realized where this was going. Another ridiculous feat pulled off by the moron himself. He dove into the water, and began swimming towards the apparent rescue vessel. Mere minutes later, he was rowing back a beautiful woman, and my hopes of escape back home spontaneously combusted into nothing. As soon as she touched the wood of the docks, she stormed towards the man in charge of entrance to the city, demanding that Ezio and his guest be allowed on the boat. She apparently had power along with the beauty. He nodded his head and looked quite flustered.

"Yes, Signora … whatever you say, Signora." He bowed to the woman, who turned and walked towards a now very smug Ezio.

"He won't trouble you anymore," she explained, smiling faintly, "I … took care of it."

Ezio bowed his head gratefully. "Thank you, Caterina." How many women could this man go through in a day? Was he challenging himself? The thought was absolutely sickening.

"Perhaps we'll see each other again," Caterina suggested lightly, "should you ever find yourself in the city of Forli, it would be my … pleasure, to welcome you."

"I look forward to enjoying your hospitality." Oh, yes, her hospitality. That's definitely a word to describe it. I groaned again, quietly but furiously walking up onto the ship. I leaned against the edge, staring a bit darkly at the powerful woman now waving her goodbyes to Ezio.

"Be careful, Ezio." Leonardo warned him as we began to sail away. "Do you know who that was?"

He smirked. "My next conquest?"

Leonardo laughed. "I don't think so, Ezio!" I rose an eyebrow. "That's Caterina Sforza, daughter of the _Duca di Milano_. Her husband - "

"Husband?" Aw, too bad. However, I began to wonder how much this man even _respected_ the boundaries of marriage. Every other man in Firenze didn't, at least.

"Si! Her _husband_ is the Lord of Forli - that woman is as powerful and dangerous as she is young and beautiful." I was not surprised at how this seemed to be a challenge for Ezio, as he leaned back with a confident look in his eyes.

"_Sembra come una donna per me._" Both I and Leonardo rolled our eyes, and Leonardo said nothing more. So now, I had to sit on a ship for hours on end and try not to contemplate jumping overboard because it was becoming more and more tempting. I didn't want to think about Ezio's womanizing either - it was an infuriating concept, how he objectified women, using them up like old toys, and probably didn't even think twice about it. That girl I … unfortunately … witnessed his relations with after not even ten minutes, for example. Who's to say he'd ever give her a second glance again? She was just another forgotten toy, lying on the ground, caked in dirt and replaced with a new shiny doll, and the cycle repeats itself.

"Sili, come here," I ignored him, refusing to acknowledge that was even a name. Leonardo chuckled, amused by my reaction.

"Ezio, I suggest you start calling her by her real name, Gemma."

"How did you come to know this before I did?" He asked, slightly confused that a member of the opposite gender actually didn't care much for him. I smirked.

"I grabbed some parchment and ink earlier, and we … chatted, so to speak."

He rose an eyebrow at me, almost as if he was surprised I could read and write. "Oh? Do you still have it?"

"No, Gemma has it." And I did, it was tucked away safely in my dress. Ezio turned to me, his eyes seeming to be _asking_ for the paper. I easily shook my head.

"That's quite hurtful, piccina," Ezio said, frowning with mock innocence, "why do you not tell me about yourself as you have told Leonardo?" I wasn't very adamant on opening up to womanizing murderers, and if he couldn't figure it out, I didn't see it as a problem of mine.

"Um, Ezio," Leonardo pointed out, still laughing, "if you haven't already guessed by her previous behavior, Gemma isn't exactly … fond of you." 'Fond' was the understatement of the day, my loathing for this man knew not the slightest of bounds at this point. He seemed _surprised_ about this piece of information, however.

"I don't see what the problem is," he said with a shrug, "it's not like I've murdered your family or anything, I'm simply _borrowing_ you until what's done is done. There is no need for hatred - !" My hand was sailing across his cheek before I could process what was going on, the final strand of my patience finally snapping, and angry, bitter tears were beginning to burn the corner of my eyes. I couldn't take it, running off to the farthest section of the boat, ignoring the alarmed looks of the other passengers, who in turn easily blamed Ezio for what seemed like quite a womanly problem. I stared at the sea as it rushed by, filled with bitter emotions I didn't care to identify. I was sailing farther and farther away from my home, and I wondered if I would ever see it again. A hand suddenly came on my shoulder, and when I turned to happily glare down the expected holder of it, it was Leonardo.

"I'm sure Ezio's used to getting slapped by women," he said, hoping to me make me laugh, "but I told him the reason why that affected you as much as it did, he seems quite remorseful, actually." As he should. Nonetheless, I risked a glance at him, and he was staring directly into my eyes, and when our eyes met, he beckoned me over with a simple gesture of his fingers. I hesitated, but Leonardo nudged me forward and I trudged to the man's side, trying not to feel all that childish for slapping him.

"That hurt," he said simply, gesturing to the red hand mark now on his face, "but, I deserved it." I looked down, my eyes still quite moist from a few moments ago. He lifted my chin up with a single finger. "Gemma, I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, because that would be unfair. I didn't know that you were Abramo's daughter, though your facial features did remind me a bit of him. I've done exactly to you what those in the past have done to me, and led to where I am right now. However, you need to know _why_."

I numbly nodded in response, and he began. "Things have been … difficult for me, when it came to my reputation in Firenze, for example. I had to take care of some things, and couldn't allow the city guards to interfere, and had to become unknown. Your father … he claimed that he himself saw me commit a few crimes, and I did nothing of the sort. He was very loud about what he saw, and it was very hard for me to move around the city without being recognized by the people and pursued by the guards, and I became sick of it - I did what I deemed necessary at the time, so that I may be free." I didn't know what I was supposed to feel towards this explanation, simply deciding it would be best to try not to think about it much. In a mixture of my hatred, sat a form of confusion, though forgiveness was out of the question, and I gave him a quick look, sighing, and shaking my head. He gave me a thoughtful look. "I know what it feels like to lose someone," he murmured, "my father and brothers were publicly killed because of a false accusation of conspiracy against the city, if you did not already hear about it from your father the day it happened." It wasn't a particularly hot topic for me at the time, I just saw it as a conspiring family getting what they deserved. However, in the darkness of eyes, I could see something hidden there that I wasn't allowed to see just yet.

Somehow, though, I began growing a bit weary of hating him at that exact moment, sighing and tentatively placing my hand on his shoulder. He smiled, and took it into his big, rough hands, bending down in an attempt to kiss it. I unconsciously snatched it away right before he could do it, scowling a bit, and walking back to Leonardo's side.

"I can see who's the favorite," he commented dryly, laughing to himself. Leonardo gave me a polite smile. The city of Venezia came into sight after a few more hours of awkward sailing, and when we got off, a cheerful man ran up and gestured to the city.

"Welcome to Venezia, Sir Leonardo!"

---

**A/N: Ah, lol. It took a little longer, a merciless case of the writer's block attacked me for this. School, too, has been coming after me with an iron fist. Well, spring break is next Friday, so I'm pumped! I hope you enjoyed and will stay linked for the next chapter. C:**

_**Italian to English Index:**_

_**Basta: **_**Stop**

_**Duca di Milano**_**: Duke of Milan**

_**Sembra come una dona per me: **_**"Sounds like my kind of woman."**


	4. Oddities

**A/N: You know the drill. I don't own AC2, that belongs to the Frenchmen of Ubisoft, sadly.**

The Confidant

Chapter 4: Oddities

The first thing I noticed about Venezia was its sheer size. I had to take a moment to absorb just how much of it there was. I'd never been out of Firenze in my entire life, and this in itself was an accomplishment. Well, despite the fact that the only reason I was here because it was against my will, but that detail, for now, was pushed into the back of my head. Our guide was very eager. His name was Alvise, and he loved his city, to a point of which keeping up with him and his brief tour became a hassle. We saw old churches, and corruption – Venezia had a large portion of it. Just like home. Leonardo, too, was just as eager to be here, and the grin across his face was enough to keep me stoic for the time being. When the tour was over, we came to Leonardo's new workshop. It apparently was made to be exactly like the one back in Firenze. I wouldn't know.

"I hope you enjoy Venezia, as much as she enjoys having you." Alvise said when the tour came to an end, and he bowed, holding his hand out, obviously asking for some monetary compensation for his touring and whatnot. Ezio didn't seem to notice – or, perhaps, maybe he didn't want to notice? Either way, I sighed, reaching into the tiny little coin purse I had in my dress, and plopped a few coins into the man's hand. His blue eyes lit up, and he gingerly took hold of my hand and placed a kiss on it.

"You are very generous, _signora_," he said, "_Grazie__,_ and I _sincerely_ hope you love it here in Venezia." I smiled a bit, and nodded, feeling the need to chuckle at the emphasis on sincere.

Leonardo snickered. "So, here we are. Exciting, isn't it? Care to come in?"

"Maybe later," Ezio said mysteriously, "I need to visit the _Palazzo della Seta_. Try and gain an audience with Emilio."

"As you wish," Leonardo replied with his usual smile, "But should you find yourself with free time, or another Codex Page, don't hesitate to visit. My door is always open."

"_Grazie_, my friend," he said, and they hugged. "Actually – do you mind doing me a favor?"

"Si, of course!" Leonardo grinned.

Ezio gestured to me. "Look after Gemma for a little while, the streets of this city are vast and confusing, especially for one as silent as her. Plus, I can't be slowed down."

Leonardo laughed, nodding his head. "Of course, Ezio. She will be taken care of until you return." He grabbed my hand and began to happily lead me into his new work space, and I glanced back at Ezio, who had a broad smirk on his face.

"Behave." He said simply, striding off to investigate on how to kill Emilio Barbarigo. My fist began to clench a bit, but I knew that I could never keep up with Ezio, so I was content with being shown all over the artist's place, nodding in polite acknowledgment at his awe-filled face at every miniscule detail the architects got right. It got boring after a few minutes, but I didn't let it show on my face.

"You know," Leonardo commented at one point, "I sometimes feel as if talking to you is like talking to myself – like I could utter every single secret of my life aloud and it wouldn't affect a single thing." I wasn't sure if he was analyzing me or just insulting me, but I went along with it, having no choice but to shrug. He laughed. "You are indeed a strange one, Gemma."

It'd been a few hours of Leonardo's fluttering around his new home like an excited butterfly before two sharp knocks came at the door, and Ezio strode inside, his sleeves stained with blood. Had he killed his target in such little time?

"Ezio! So good to see you! How can I help you?" He presented a rolled up piece of parchment in front of the artist's face. "Aha! You've found another one! How exciting!" As Leonardo diddled with the parchment, Ezio casually sat beside me.

"I take it you didn't misbehave, piccina?" He asked slyly. He caught me staring at the blood, and he chuckled very darkly. "No, I didn't kill him yet, that will be much later. I helped out a band of thieves, actually." I raised my eyebrow, wondering to what extent he helped them with. I also began to wonder how he managed to befriend a band of thieves in such little time, but I quickly expelled it from my head, because the feats this man pulled in mere minutes were a bit more compelling.

"I got it!" Leonardo exclaimed after a bit, handing Ezio the Codex Pages – which is what I guessed it was.

"Would you like to see some of the city with me, Gemma?" Ezio said, flashing me his most charming smile. "My mission can wait; staying indoors too long is quite unhealthy." At this point, I really didn't see the benefits in fighting back or angrily refusing the offer. There was no way I could get home without Ezio's help, so I stood up and trailed after him to the outside of the city, noticing that he was going much slower than he usually did. I rolled my eyes, realized he was underestimating me again, and took off in a run. The surprise on his face was priceless, and I looked backward in his direction as I ran, throwing him a playful, mocking look, something I hadn't done since I was six years old. I wove through the crowds of Venetian people as best as I could, concealing myself in the shadows, and waited for Ezio to run forward. When he did so, searching the area for me, I casually walked to his side, which he didn't notice, startling him.

"Clever," he commented, laughing, "you're faster than most women I've met; you'd have made a good thief." A small smile played on my lips, enough to make me a bit smug about my supposed skills. "Well, if you can keep up with me, I see no reason in walking." He bolted down the street in that instant, becoming a blur to me before I took off after him. I focused on the back of his hood – and the fact that he was taller than most in the streets helped, as well. The energy he exhibited was contagious, and I soon found myself running and running, feeling weightless. That, however, came to an abrupt halt when I accidentally slammed straight into the chest of a guard, falling backward onto my behind.

"What the hell's your problem?" The man demanded, and with eyes like a predator he looked down at me, a disgusting smile began to spread across his cracked lips. "I see no ring on your finger, so you can make it up to me for your rudeness." He forced me back up to my feet, pulling me dangerously close to him, and all the while the other guards laughed, urging him on. My instincts told me to slap him, but that would just get me in more trouble, so I awkwardly, yet begrudgingly, attempted to pull myself free of him.

"There you are!" Shouted Ezio's relieved voice. I raised my eyebrow. "Signore, thank you for finding my sister – she tends to wander off," Ezio easily pulled me behind him, leaning over to the guard, "she was born a bit … slow, so to speak." I waited to see if the guard was stupid enough to fall for it.

He was. "Fine, fine," he grunted, "your sister's a bit of a whore, though, she threw herself on me and wouldn't let go!" His companions let out a belt of testosterone-fueled laughter. I held my head down, my teeth clenching. This was nothing new to me – guards and men alike often said this when I didn't go along with their stupidity, because I did not speak, this was an advantage point for their pride.

The sound of a blade meeting skin forced my head back up, and before I could register what had just happened, I was being towed away at an almost impossible speed. I ended up with my back slammed against the wall, two long, sleeved arms on either side of my face, and a broad, armored chest pressed up against me. The shadows hid us perfectly – the guards ran past, bellowing for the bastardo to be caught and hung. Ezio seemed completely unaffected by all of this.

I couldn't say the same for me. This little to no distance between him and I was extremely uncomfortable. I'd never been this close to a man before – and the discreet pounding of my heart made me feel like a child. I forced back the need to turn as red as the blood on his sleeves, and looked down, trying to memorize the ground and forget that I was there.

His warmth suddenly disappeared, and my face was being lifted by a gloved finger. "What was that just now, Gemma?" His mouth was turned down in a frown that seemed very annoyed, and his eyebrows were tented. "Just now – when he said that – why did you react like that?" I groaned to myself, yanking my chin from his grip and began to walk back in the direction of Leonardo's workshop. How I was even supposed to respond to that, I didn't know. "If that were me, damn it, I would've been unconscious, on the ground by now!"

I stifled a giggle, covering my mouth with my hand. "You are such a strange woman." I had to give him that. I _was_ strange. Our little stroll, apparently, wasn't even over yet, and I was led to a shady portion of the town. He introduced me to an intimidating woman with short black hair, who dressed in men's clothing. She was a thief, that was obvious enough, and she leaned on a crutch. Her leg was broken, as well.

"Is this the one you spoke of, Ezio?" She asked, smirking. I apparently have been a hot topic as of late. She hobbled forward, grasping on to my chin with rough finger. "She is very young – couldn't be more than seventeen." She was off by a year. I had turned sixteen three days before I met Ezio – an age perfect for marriage, according to my mother.

"Gemma – this is Rosa. A … new friend of mine." They exchanged smirks. We'd only been in Venezia, what – one, two days? "I'm going to go talk to Antonio for a few minutes." Rosa nodded – she'd apparently been given the assignment of babysitting me beforehand. He strode away, walking into the wide white building with a curt close of the door. The situation swiftly became awkward – and when I returned my gaze to the woman, she was examining me with a raised eyebrow.

"Ezio tells me you do not speak – how the hell do you get things done?" I shrugged, instead shifting my gaze to her broken leg, which she noticed. "An archer shot me in the thigh. Ezio instantly helped me, he was very kind – and has an amazing amount of charm." So that's where the blood on his sleeves came from – he was playing hero to a damsel in distress. It explained it thoroughly enough, though the look of this woman told me she didn't allow him to help her all that quietly.

"Your eyes tell me that you are judging me, little girl," Rosa said slyly, the arrogant smirk reminiscent of Ezio, I tried to shake my head, but she didn't believe me – she was too cunning, "if this is jealousy that fuels your –"I hastily covered her mouth with my hand, shaking my head very quickly. She could have him, by all means. She smacked it away, but laughed. "You're as interesting as Ezio said, it's a shame you do not speak, I would have liked to hear what comes out of your mouth." I bit back the urge to give her a sarcastic look, and began to aimlessly wander. A door suddenly opened , and the look on Ezio's face was surprisingly serious.

"I need to take care of some business," he said, "I'm going to take you back to Leonardo's workshop – and we have no time to walk there." In three powerful strides, I was being lifted up into his arms like a rag doll, and I looked back at the smirking Rosa, refusing to analyze the meaning of it. I instead turned my attention to Ezio, who looked very determined as we carelessly dashed through the streets of Venezia. It was entirely silent on the way there – he was planning something – that was obvious enough. When we got to the artist's workshop in less than five minutes, I was carefully brought back to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

--

**A/N:** **My sincerest apologies for skipping last week. Spring Break vacation and all that. OTL; As for my thoughts on Rosa, I adore her. She's such a loveably feisty little she-thief, and I bet she and Gemma will butt heads a few times in the future. Ezio's such a man whore – he had Rosa charmed in less than ten minutes. /waggles eyebrows. I'll try my best to stay un-blocked and be punctual with these chapters, promise.**

**R&R would be appreciated, and, of course, if I'm doing anything wrong, please say so respectfully. Stay l****inked for the next installment next Friday!**


	5. Words

The Confidant

Chapter 5: Words

Leonardo was asleep when I got inside. His snoring shook the workshop, bouncing off the walls. It was rather comical to hear it. My feet ached, and with a sigh, I plopped on the couch that was half my size. I didn't realize how late it was, my eyes scanning all around the dark building, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It was then that I realized the grand opportunity I had sitting in front of me, going unnoticed. Here I was, alone and without a babysitter, and not taking advantage of it.

First thing that needed to be done was changing out of these clothes. A dress would only slow me down, that was for sure. Leonardo once spoke of his dabbing in anatomy. Maybe he had extra clothes lying around? I checked in a nearby chest as silently as possible, and to my annoyance, there were only art supplies. I looked around; eyes brightening at the fact that Leonardo was too busy to even empty his trunk of belongings. I searched through it, and I managed to find a suitable enough outfit. Trousers, a pair of boots, a shirt, and a vest. Even a hat and some money.

I risked tip-toeing to Leonardo's room when I looked sufficiently like a boy, taking in the sight of the artist sprawled out on his mattress, snoring away peacefully. I carefully placed a delicate kiss on his forehead as a thanks for everything – but I couldn't stay here, I had to go home, and damn it, I'd figure out a way to get there. He stirred, but continued on undisturbed as I slipped through the doorway. I was extremely paranoid as I walked, knowing Ezio had a tendency to appear, quite literally, out of nowhere, but the look on his face when I had last saw him seemed determined enough to not think about what his hostage could be doing.

I tried as hard as I could to remember the path that Alvise had laid out for us from the docks, but my memory was a bit sketchy. I was stupid not to memorize it – I was too busy staring at the buildings like a mesmerized child. There had to be a way to get to the water – and from there I could find my way. I decided to go north, the only conceivable choice I had.

I had only truly been walking for maybe twenty minutes, but my worry and paranoia made it seem like hours. Ezio was in a bad mood – if he caught me attempting to escape like this, I was unsure of what he was capable of while angry. For all I knew, the charming, moronic, and kind personality he showed me could be an act. I didn't dwell on it, instead focusing my energy on getting the hell out of this city, and back to my mother. As … intolerable of a personality she had, I missed her very much.

I soon came up to a bit of a drinking party, and tried to avoid it without any form of disturbance. The two men cackled, very much drunk, clinking their bottles of wine together. There was one who was skinny, his face pale and rather sickly, and had greasy brown hair that touched his neck. The other was the exact opposite – the size of a building and with no hair to speak of. I was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled toward them.

"See here, boy," slurred the skinny one, "you need to be a man and learn to drink – but I don't think you have enough _coglione_ – so give me your money, so I may buy Celestino and I another drink, and show you how _real_ men live!" The smell of alcohol on his breath made me scrunch my nose up. His uncoordinated hands attempted to frisk me, but I couldn't allow it. I needed this money to get home. I shoved myself free of my captor – he was predictably weak for his physical stature. The other one stumbled after me however, somehow managing to trip me with his fat foot. They had the wallet with all of the money, presenting it in front of me with menacing smirks.

"What are you two _idioti_ doing so late at night?" An arrogant, yet cold voice called out to the drunks. "Picking on another _ragazzo_? Run out of money again?"

"_Ser_ Ferro!" They bellowed in unison. Ferro stepped into clear view – he was a pale man, as well, but with hair that reminded me of gold, and dark blue eyes that seemed as menacing as his voice. He was obviously not a man with good intentions.

"This _ragazzo_," slurred Celestino, "isn't showing any respect to his elders – and I need more wine, damn it!"

"_Ragazzo_, eh?" He strode forward, forcing me to my feet, and I took this time to glare at him, "Morons. It's all in the eyes – no man would have such a vibrant green color. This one is very much a _donna_." He ripped off my hat, and watched through smug eyes as my dark brown hair tumbled to my shoulders, still conspicuous, even in the night. "Do you know how dangerous it is to wander the streets of Venezia at such a late hour, hm?"

I thrashed myself free of him, attempting to grab hold of my wallet, but the fat one easily held it out of my reach, all the while laughing stupidly at my futile effort. My teeth ground together, but the situation was cut short when I was seized by both of my wrists and pinned up against a brick wall and in that instant, I was prey. I fought back – God, did I fight back – but Ferro was stronger than me, only reveling in the adrenaline of the hunt, his hands trailing down my hips and down to my thigh, forcing my leg around his waist.

"Let me show you just how dangerous it is." His hands, freezing cold and merciless, began to force themselves up my shirt. The panic began to set in right then, and I attempted to slam my knee just where he was trying to violate me. He anticipated it, however, my knee meeting the palm of his hand in that moment. "Any spirit can be broken, _piccina_." I opened my mouth to scream out of raw instinct, but nothing happened, and he proceeded to viciously assault my neck, biting on the skin, and I was sure a mark was left there, and all of a sudden, his fist went slamming into my gut.

I coughed up blood. It was then that the reality of this situation dawned on me. If I fought, he would hit me – harder and harder each time. Ferro's hands grabbed onto my breasts, and I simply went limp, retreating to the back of my head and trying to pretend I was back in my father's study, ten years old, and listening to the story of King Arthur and his knights. It didn't work – I could still feel his hands everywhere, I could still hear his grunts of arousal, I could still feel the pointed object now attempting to find its way around.

I fell to my knees, my mind and body numb, when his weight was suddenly shoved off of me – I heard words, too, but I couldn't make sense of them. No – I knew this voice.

"You are as good as dead, _bastardo_." snarled this familiar voice. Ezio – why was he here? I finally managed to register what was going on, and saw the man's fleeing figure.

Ezio lifted my face up with a gloved hand, and I couldn't tell if he was glaring at me in the darkness. "Do not run away – please, I will be back." He was gone and returned in a matter of five minutes, not making any form of move to touch me. I wasn't surprised though, given how I treated his usual advances. "Come on – I will take you back to Leonardo, he is worried sick." His voice was as gentle as cotton, as if any raise of his voice was capable of destroying what was left of my sanity. I struggled to my feet, but got there.

It was in that exact moment that I _did_ snap, but in an entirely different way, because my arms wrapped themselves around his chest from behind and something I didn't expect escaped my lips out of sheer, raw relief. "_Gr … Gra … zie_."

He froze. "Did you … just speak?"

My voice was thick and raspy, and it shocked me to hear it. "_Ez … io_ … _gr … gra … zie_." He whirled, crushing me against his chest in a powerful, safe embrace.

"_Non avere puara_," he whispered, then, stroking the back of my head, "you're safe with me, Gemma. I promise – nothing's going to hurt you." His warmth and scent put me in a state of calm I hadn't reached in a long time, though I was still trembling. Somehow, I believed every single word he said without hesitation. My body trusted this man – and my mind was beginning to do so, too. Right now, he wasn't the arrogant, suave bastard that kidnapped me and took me to Venezia against my will.

He was my hero. And as cliché as it may sound, that was enough to calm my thoughts for the time being. Ezio said nothing more, easily deducing that walking would be a bit of a struggle, and lifted me into a cradle. At this point, feeling helpless meant nothing to me, and I clung to safety with what little strength I had left. It was silent on the way back, but that immediately changed when we were in Leonardo's house all of a sudden.

"Oh _grazie a dio_, Gemma," Leonardo said, relief in his voice, "what happened, Ezio? Where was she?"

"Now's not a time for that," Ezio grunted, "she's shaken right now. You have a spare room upstairs, yes?"

"Si, si! Down the hall, right next to mine." He didn't waste any time, striding up the stairs and down the hall as Leonardo had said, and he carefully placed me down on a soft, comfy surface, treating me like a porcelain doll. My hand unconsciously reached out and latched on to his sleeve – I didn't want him to leave right now. I didn't want to be left to my own thoughts.

"Give me three seconds, _cara_," he whispered, running a finger down my cheek, "I'm going to have a quick word with Leonardo; I swear I'll be back before you know it." He was out through the doorway in that instant. My body didn't like it, this lack of safety. It was then that I could feel moisture in the corners of my eyes. I welcomed it, and soon enough, I was curled into a ball and big, fat tears were traveling down my face, attempting to form a river. I wanted to forget everything that had happened, but that was impossible.

The bed suddenly moved, and instead of a pillow I was gingerly moved onto Ezio's lap, but other than that, he didn't make a motion to say anything, stroking my head, allowing me this time to just get it all out of my system. At one point, though, he did speak. "What in the world were you thinking, _piccola_? This isn't Firenze – you do not know this city, there are men just _waiting_ to take advantage of one as silent as you!" he sighed heavily, "Did I not treat you well, Gemma? Was I such a _mostro_ that you had to run off like that, knowing how dangerous it was?"

I didn't have an answer for that. He was making me sound like an ignorant child – whom I could've been, but this didn't help the situation. I instead decided to try speaking again, lifting my head to meet his eyes. "_Gr … Grazi … e, Ez … io_."

I saw a smile stretch across his lips – not a smirk – but a sincere smile, and he wiped away the stray moisture on my face with his hand. "_Di niente_, _piccina_ – as long as you're safe," he paused, the ghost of a grin spreading across his face, "and talking." The last portion of that sentence, I decided to ignore, and drifted off into a dark abyss of sleep, and he never left my side.

***

That was until I woke up, however, and a brown cape was draped over me. I was by myself but that suited me fine for the moment, and I took in the sight of the morning light. I leaned against the window sill, but as I stared outside, I registered the figures of the two goons from the yesterday night, and my hand clenched around the wood of the window sill. Unconsciously, I began to look for some form of blunt weapon – my hand beginning to shake from anger.

A hand suddenly came down on my own, calming it. "Gemma, please, straining yourself could be unhealthy." I turned to meet the freckled face of my favorite artist, who looked deeply concerned – for an answer; I managed to find a piece of parchment on the desk. Leonardo immediately understood, skipping off to find me a writing utensil. When he did, my handwriting was a bit illegible to the trembling of my hand.

_ Those two. They were there and laughing and were the cause of everything when I was getting_, Leonardo stopped my hand with a knowing look.

"I understand your anger, Gemma, but you know as well as I that there is nothing you can do against them – and besides, Ezio _expressly_ told me to keep an eye on you; he's worried, as am I!" I exhaled sharply.

_ Where is he?_ I couldn't help but wonder, but at the same time, I was slightly ashamed of myself for showing such a side of myself to him so willingly.

"Urgent business," Leonardo said quickly, "he couldn't avoid it, but no need to worry; he said he'd be back in not too long a time."

_ I'm pathetic, Leonardo_. I scribbled out, sighing. _I couldn't let go of him last night … I needed him so damn much._

"Ah, that is Ezio," he answered with a chuckle, "he has a gentle disposition. And that is one of the reasons why he's such a favorite with women."

_ And I've fallen into his trap, like all of those other women. It won't end well!_

"Don't be so pessimistic," Leonardo murmured, playfully mussing my head, "when he realized you had disappeared with my clothes and money," he took this time to give me a bit of scolding raise of the eyebrow, "he was quite distraught. Didn't even waste enough time to tell me where he was off to. He was worried sick."

_ Funny, he told me __you_ _were the one worried sick_.

"Ah, but I was!" He agreed, laughing. "It was foolish of you to do that, but I will not scold you right now – I, however, want to know: Did you truly _speak_ to Ezio?" I rolled my eyes, nodding. It wasn't that much of a miraculous occurrence. In the past, I _did_ speak, but I learned early on that no one was going to listen, so there was no point. Most of my beatings came from when I spoke out of turn, something I had a tendency to do when I was a child. I was roughly eight or nine years old when I decided that speaking was getting me nowhere, and deduced that silence was the way to go.

And now, my body was trained to keep everything bottled inside – it protects me this way, and I don't have to waste my breath. I didn't recall what my voice sounded like before yesterday, either.

"It's incredible," Leonardo snapped me out of my train of thought, "because I always thought it was a medical issue – something that could not be cured but it seems to all be in that pretty little head of yours!" He tapped my forehead with his finger, his eyes telling me that he had plans. It was a truly frightening thought. "So tell me, how long have you not spoken?"

_ 8 years._

"Oh my, really?" His facial expression told me that he couldn't even fathom the thought, pursing his lips in deliberation. "So this habit of yours runs very deep. It will be hard to break."

_ And if I don't want to break it?_ It alarmed him when he read it, and I groaned quietly. _Do you not understand __why_ _it is that I remain silent? People leave me alone, nothing I say is worth anyone's __time._

"What about yesterday?" Leonardo pointed out softly.

_ It was a mistake, I wasn't thinking straight – I needed to feel safe, if only for a few hours._

"I understand, Gemma," he said, nodding, "but do you honestly believe that no one will listen to you? Actually, I've _always_ wondered what you'd say if you could."

_ I don't want to discuss this anymore, Leonardo. I'm sorry._ With that, I placed the parchment on the old wooden desk and walked down the hall and down the stairs to the main portion of the workshop. Leonardo just didn't get it. Silence is what has kept me sane all these years – and it's kept me out of trouble, for the most part. It was my comfort zone, and I wasn't about to leave it for simple theories and speculation.

I opened the door, needing some air, and immediately bumped into a hard surface covered by a soft cloth, and stumbled backward.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry, _cara_?" Ezio asked, crossing his arms across his chest. I exhaled sharply, turning on my heel and stalking back into the house. After what happened yesterday, getting Ezio to trust me outside again would be a hassle. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her, Leonardo!" His voice was sarcastic, almost laughably so.

"Ezio!" Leonardo appeared a bit pink from embarassment. "What can I help you with?" He handed him another Codex Page, and the artist quickly got to work.

"How are you feeling, Gemma?" Ezio asked softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. It was the one without his glove, and it was warm enough to seep through my clothing. I mentally berated myself for allowing him to have such an effect. "I'm sorry for leaving, _cara_, but know that I'd only leave you like that if it was _truly_ important."

I shrugged, treating it like the most casual thing in the world. The first step of getting rid of this stupid feeling was apathy. In reality, of course, I could still feel Ferro's hands crawling on me like _insetti_, but I had to be strong. I could never repeat last night – I refused to be this man's toy. Not now, not ever.

"Really, _piccina_," Ezio said, placing his hand against my cheek, "you don't have to pretend to be strong – I know you're hurting." His hand began to trail down my face and neck, almost threatening to go just a bit lower.

"It is finished!" Leonardo announced proudly. "It wasn't that hard – just a bit of mixing up of the code from the last one." He handed the paper back to his friend, and I took this time to retreat to the guest room, closing the door and locking it. My heart was racing. Why was it racing? I had to have some form of sickness. Something had to be wrong with me. I rushed to the mirror and inspected my face, which was now a noticeable shade of red. _My father's murderer, my father's murderer, my – father's – murderer!_ I chanted and chanted this to myself, taking deep breaths, and the mere thought I had to _do_ this to calm myself down was disgusting.

I stepped in front of the mirror and glared at myself. _Look here, Gemma – the man standing downstairs killed your father, kidnapped you, and is holding you here for an indefinite amount of time until he kills someone __else__, and on top of that, he's a womanizer_! With that burned into my skull, I threw myself on the mattress, and sighed. _Gemma, you have officially lost your mind._

"Are you sure you're alright?" His voice startled me into a sitting position. How the hell did he get in? I was fairly sure I locked the door. "Your behavior is concerning me, _piccina_." I groaned, pushing my face into the pillow. "Gemma, did I not make it in time?" Ezio sounded grave, almost regretful.

I sat up, vigorously shaking my head. Things would be a bit different if he didn't make it in time. As I stared at him, I realized that his hood was down, revealing much more of his handsome face, and the fact that his eyes were brown, not topaz. It made him more realistic. He casually sat by my side. "Quite a bit of color has left your face, _cara_, is there anything I can do …?"

I politely pointed to the door. "Ah, but I came in through the window." That explained it. I shifted my pointing finger to the window with a raise of my eyebrows. He laughed, but stood up in defeat. "Okay, okay, I'm gone." He wasn't leaving, much to my annoyance. "Don't give me that look, _piccola_; I'll leave, but I'm going to need you to do me two favors before I do so." I listened, raising an eyebrow in question.

He reached into one of his many thousands of pockets and handed me a sharp, unused dagger that gleamed against the sunlight peaking through the window. "This is for those times you have to disobey me – you'll be just a bit safer. Keep it with you. Protect yourself." And with that, he leapt out the same way he came in. I sat for an indefinite period of time for a bit, staring at both the weapon and the window.

---

**A/N:** **This chapter came out almost too quickly. Seriously, I was shocked as I was able to write all of this in a matter of a day or so. Though to be honest, I'm starting to become wary of how this story is turning out to you guys – no one seems to like it. XD; So, I'm going to politely ask what it is about my story that annoys/turns you off/bores you – kinda stupid, I'm aware, but I **_**really**_ **want to know so I can improve, or at least fix the chapters.**

**Well, on a more technical-positive note, I think I'm going to do the remainder of the chapters in third person, it'll just give me more ways to convey the feelings of people other than Gemma, just to have a little fun. I might switch back eventually, or for dramatic effect, who knows? Heh. Oh, and I'll most likely start posting sponteanously – the whole Friday-thing is just too much pressure. Apologies for any inconveniences. D;**

_**Italian to English Dictionary:**_

_**Coglione –**_ **balls.**

_**Idioti**_ – **idiots.**

_**Ragazzo – **_**boy.**

_**Donna –**_ **woman.**

_**Non avere puara –**_ **Do not have fear/don't be afraid.**

_**Grazie a Dio - **_**Thank god.**

_**Cara**_ – **Dear, darling.**

_**Piccola **_– **Sweetheart. **


	6. Mia Colomba

The Confidant

Chapter 6: Mia Colomba

Gemma woke up in a jolt upright. Her eyes the size of plates, and her body caked in sweat. Another nightmare, it seemed. She didn't know if she screamed or not, but Leonardo didn't seem to scamper up to check if she'd gone insane yet – Ezio wasn't there, of course. He was always out, only appearing out of thin air for an hour or so, with sleeves tinted with blood, simply to check about her welfare. Her dreams were not even in a certain _line_ – it was just a bunch of cryptic images from the past, and what could happen in the future.

She groaned to herself, changing into a dress Leonardo bought for her with some of his commission money. It was a simple, sky blue dress that revealed just a bit of her cleavage. Leonardo let her outside whenever she wanted, but he warned her that if she ran off again, he'd tell Ezio and she only be allowed outside with supervision. Obviously, this made her feel like a pet – a misbehaved one, at that. Normally, she'd just wander in the front yard and sit around in the shade and stare off into space, but that was before she met a friend.

His name was Alessio Esposito, and he was roughly a few months younger than her. They'd met when his mother came to commission Leonardo for a painting. Gemma was sure that this boy didn't have a single care in the world. His family were successful merchants, he was free to do whatever he pleased, had a beautiful almost-fiancee, and on top of all of it, he was extremely adorable. His eyes were a bright blue-gray, his hair was light brown, and a few freckles spotted his tanned face. A smile was always on his lips, too.

"Gemma!" He called out, waving his arms. "I want to show you something!" He didn't even give her a chance to stand up, grabbing her by the hand and forcing her to her feet. She stumbled, unable to keep up with his hyperactive behavior, but was easily dragged to the destination in question. They reached a massive bridge that stretched to another part of the city. "_Ser_ Leonardo told me that you didn't know much of the city, so I thought that you might not have seen this yet." Actually, she had, when they first got to Venezia, but she humored him, the look on his face something she didn't want to pass up.

He sighed, though he grinned. "I wish I was a mind reader, I want to know your proper reaction to this!" Alessio led her onto the bridge, excitedly explaining everything like Alvise the tour guide. In his haste to make his city sound even more magnificent, he lost his footing on a few loose floor boards, and fell face first. Gemma burst out into a fit of giggles, as did the merchants selling wares on the each side. She quickly helped him up, but couldn't lose her smile.

"Now, now, Alessio," barked out an old man selling fish, cackling, "is that any way to show a lady around the city?"

"_Chiudi il becco_, S_er_ Cristiano!" He said, his face going red. "It's your fault for not securing the wood on the bridge!"

"Our fault?" The old man bellowed, laughing. "You're the one running around like a _pazzo_, if you want to impress her, be more calm!" Gemma put her hand over her mouth, silently giggling at the redness of Alessio's face, and the light atmosphere. This boy was still very much a child at heart, something she envied to no end. In closer examination of his freckled face, she took in the sight of a open gash on his cheek, probably made by one of the nails. Gemma quickly tapped him on the shoulder, and led him to a _dottore_ in order to clean it.

– – –

From the rooftops, there stood a hooded witness to all of this. Ezio wasn't sure how to react to this, though the first emotion was confusion. He was very much aware of Alessio's presence in Gemma's life, and how he got her to laugh and smile so naturally – and so quickly – was something to be envied. He still was very wary of it all – the Esposito family were very much Templars, and he didn't want Gemma exposed to that – he didn't want her burdened with everything he was. He'd gotten much closer to his target, as well, so there was no need. Everything was almost in place – and when Emilio Barbarigo was dead, she'd want to go back to Firenze.

The thought was somewhat disappointing to him, and he wasn't sure why. She'd certainly been an interesting addition to his life. He still took quite a bit of pride in the fact that she'd only ever spoken for _him_, as well. Since that incident, she hasn't said a word, and has remained almost entirely blank-faced and casual, like almost getting raped was something one could easily brush off. Ezio _did_ think he was talented at reading faces and expressions, but she was a book in an entirely different language to him. He was never sure if she hated him, liked him, or merely tolerated him, and thus was one of the reasons that he couldn't entirely trust Gemma, especially with the things he knew she's heard of missions. If she spoke to him, she could speak to others.

One thing was certain, though, he had to make sure that Alessio was ignorant to what his parents were up to. That boy was definitely something to be wary of. He wanted Gemma to remain in the dark with this – because if she knew, he wasn't sure if he could just let her go home.

– – – –

"Now then," the doctor concluded smugly, "it is done. Watch your step next time, Alessio."

"_Grazie_," the boy said politely, bowing and handing the medical expert his money, "_andiamo_, Gemma, it's still early, so we can probably get something to eat at the market, everyone gives me a discount!" He ran off, forgetting to drag her along with him. She sighed, but easily caught up with him. The two teenagers soon came face-to-face with a human blockade in their way.

"I'm sorry, _piccina_," Ezio said, glancing at Alessio with narrowed, untrusting eyes, "but it's about time you get back to Leonardo, don't you think?"

"Gemma, who's this?" Alessio asked curiously, tilting his head at the sight of this intimidating man with the concealed face. He hadn't seen Ezio before.

"I'm Ezio," he replied simply, crossing his arms across his armored chest, "now then, Gemma, let's go."

"Wait a minute," Alessio interjected, stepping in front of his friend, "it's barely past noon, it's not late at all! And besides, I need to take Gemma to the market!"

Ezio raised an eyebrow at this challenge. "I'm in charge of Gemma, _ragazzo_, you do not make the decisions around here."

"Are you her father?" Alessio demanded, mimicking Ezio's dominant pose. This boy was trying the assassin's patience.

"No, but that doesn't –"

"It _means_," he insisted, "that she doesn't have to listen to you, she's old enough to make her own decisions, don't you think?"

"You are treading a dangerous path, boy," Ezio retorted, his voice turning to ice, "you do not know who you're talking to."

"Gemma," Alessio turned to the subject of this debate, "tell him it's too early for you to leave!" She glanced at Ezio, who gave her a very adamant, stubborn look. He wasn't going to back down from this, she knew that much, but she wanted to try and see if he'd give in. She held up one finger, giving him a pleading look in her eyes, learning that giving him sass wasn't going to get her anywhere. He cursed to himself.

"Fine," he barked, "but _one hour_, you understand? I'll come get you as soon as time's up, no more extensions from there."

"Noted." Alessio grunted apathetically, pulling her in the direction of the market. Once they were out of his ear shot, he sighed. "What's with him?" Gemma shrugged, honestly not knowing what in the world was going on with Ezio. The topic of Ezio soon disappeared, however, because Alessio was already leading her to the market, and tossing her a shiny, red Turkish apple from a merchant. It was delicious, naturally, and she eagerly bit into it, eyes bright as her friend ushered her to each stand.

It'd been well over an hour when they were finally done. It was confusing – Ezio looked ready to be _very_ punctual to his own deadline. This was only good news for Alessio, who decided now would be a good time to take her other places, too. As they walked, and ran, Gemma took in the sight of a hooded figure in the shadows of an alleyway, very much unconscious.

Alessio noticed her staring. "Probably another drunken fool, this district is filled with them." Three arrows were sticking out of his back. Her heart sped up, and she bolted to the fallen, unknown man. Closer inspection indicated that he was still breathing, but just barely. "Gemma! Get away from that, he could be dangerous!" She gave Alessio a sharp look, coming to the quick realization that this was Ezio. It didn't make sense, he was supposed to be invincible!

Gemma frantically pointed to him, gesturing to his outfit and silently demanding that Alessio recognize the man that he was challenging just an hour ago. He looked clueless, and she groaned, deliberating what to do next. She pulled down his hood, lifting his face up with her hands. He wasn't responsive at all, that much was obvious, and he was burning up. As clueless as her friend was, when she began to lift this man up, he decided to help her. They both struggled under Ezio's combined weight and height.

It was useless – he was too heavy, even for the both of them. Leonardo couldn't help them, either, because he was more creative than physically strong. She than came to an ingenious conclusion. The thieves! She remembered how to get there – one of them was bound to help, since Ezio was in league with them. Gemma quickly ordered Alessio to stay put with a wave of her hands, and even though he was pouting, he nodded his assent, watching as she darted off.

She ran as fast as her teenage feet could carry her, weaving her way through the crowds and pushing any in the way out of her path. Gemma easily convinced herself that this desperation to save him was in repentance for when he saved her from a dire situation, as well. It was only fair. When she finally reached the wide house where she met Rosa, she frantically knocked at the door.

Rosa answered it with a curious grin. "Gemma? What are you doing in such a dangerous place by yourself? Is Ezio with you?" She quickly shook her head, out of breath, and extremely impatient. Thankfully, the female thief understood something was wrong. "What is it?"

Gemma summoned all of her courage, and forced out one of the two words she was somewhat able to say. "Ez … io." Her voice was metallic, raspy, and weak, but Rosa heard her.

"Antonio!" Rosa bellowed into the house, her eyes growing frightened. "It seems something's wrong with Ezio!" It was easy to deduce that the man that walked up was the leader of these thieves, he was dressed so much better than them.

"What's wrong?" He asked, glancing at Gemma and then Rosa. "And who's this?"

"Gemma." Rosa replied quickly.

"Ah, the silent one?" Antonio gave her an amused smile, bending down and kissing her hand. "Ezio's spoken of you -"

"Now's not a time for meet and greet, _figlio d'un cane_!" Rosa snapped impatiently, crossing her arms across her chest. "Lead us to where Ezio is." Gemma nodded quickly, taking off at break neck speed. Halfway there, she was getting frustrated with how slow the two thieves were following her. This was a serious situation, they could at least pick up the pace! The thieves, on the other hand, were surprised at how fast this girl could move. She might've just been faster than Rosa, but that was something the female thief wouldn't admit, because, after all, she just got off her crutches.

When they finally got to where Ezio had fallen, Alessio was gone. Gemma rose an eyebrow at this, but shifted her attention back to Ezio, who was being gently slapped in the face by a concerned Rosa.

"Hey, c'mon now," she whispered, "wake up, _bello mio."_

"He has a fever," Antonio murmured, "but the arrows can be taken care of without a problem," he let out a whistle that bounced off the walls surrounding them, and two thieves quickly leapt down to the ground, lifting the unconscious man up, and throwing his arms around both of their shoulders. She trailed after them, feeling completely useless.

– – – –

It was night time when Ezio was finally laid on a cot in a small room in Antonio's house. She didn't want to leave his side – he hadn't left hers, it was only fair. She sat on an uncomfortable chair at his bed side, watching the subtle changes of his facial expression as he sweated the fever off. Occasionally, she'd wipe a damp cloth across his face. The room was dimly lit with a few candles, and in the dim darkness, she tried to imagine how in the world he got into this situation. In the silence, she could hear him mumbling, and most of what she could make out sounded like he was calling out to his family.

She bit her lip, wishing she could wake him up from that nightmare, but Bianca, the nurse that removed the arrows and bandaged his wound, expressly warned her that he wasn't to be woken. He needed to sleep it off, but at the same time, his eyebrows were knit, and his teeth were clenching. She risked a gentle shake, but was soon grabbed by the shoulders, easily lifted and slammed down on the bed. Ezio was leaning over her, and his eyes were a terrifying mixture of fury and terror. She could feel the cold steel of his hidden blade on her neck, something that Bianca couldn't figure out how to remove, and it was sharp enough to leave a fine, long cut from the bottom of her jaw to the tip of her collarbone – it stung madly, but it wasn't fatal.

Ezio was breathing very harshly, and her heart was threatening to break through her rib cage as she heard it pound in her ears. It took Gemma a few seconds to realize that he wasn't conscious – it seemed to be a reaction his body was _trained_ to do, and she silently lifted herself up, and gently pushed him back down on his back with a hand to his beautifully sculpted chest, all the while attempting to calm her heart rate down to normal. His muscles visibly relaxed under her touch, and he was back under the covers and sleeping again like nothing ever happened. Gemma placed her hand on the wound, and sighed.

It was the next morning when he finally stirred, waking Gemma up from her own uncomfortable sleeping position – she'd only really slept an hour or so. He groaned, mumbling mild profanities, and slowly began to open his eyes, his finger reaching up to touch her face from under the covers. Gemma rejoiced, and patiently waited for Ezio to regain full consciousness. In that instant, the door burst open, and Gemma was quickly shoved on to the floor by an anxious Rosa, slamming her head against the hard wood floor.

"Ezio?" She called just a bit frantically as Gemma rubbed the large bump on her head, glaring at the thief.

"Ugh … Rosa?" He asked weakly. "I thought I saw Gemma just now … ?"

"No, _idiota_," she replied gently, presenting a sharp butcher's knife from behind her back to Gemma, as a clear warning, "I found you lying out in the middle of an alley and have been with you since then – how the hell did you get there?" The forgotten girl was quickly consumed with anger, but she knew she was no match for Rosa, and she silently stalked out of the room. The door was wide open, and she sighed, making her way back to Leonardo's workshop. Her hair was a mess, and she could feel the bags under her eyes sink deeper into her face. She gave two quick knocks on the artist's door.

Gemma's state alarmed Leonardo when he answered the door. "Where in the world have you been, Gemma?" She gestured that she was fine with a lazy wave of her hands – she only wanted to sleep. "Strange woman." He commented, laughing gently as she lurked away to her room.

– – – –

**A/N: Oh, Rosa, you aggressive woman. XD I particularly liked writing this chapter, and just like the last one, it came pretty quickly. As we speak, I have to do a Social Science Fair project on the Medici family, lololol. /dork. Reviews loved, criticism coveted, flames abhorred. Oh, and if I get any of the Italian words wrong, and use them in a wrong context, please warn me. ;D Stay linked for the next chapter~. **

_**English to Italian Dictionary:**_

_**Chiudi il becco**_**: Shut up.**

_**Pazzo**_**: Crazy, insane.**

_**Dottore**_**: Doctor.**

_**Andiamo**_**: Let's go.**

_**Figlio d'un cane**_**: Son of a bitch.**

_**Bello mio**_**: My beautiful/beautiful (masculine.)**


	7. Concentrati

The Confidant

Chapter 7: Concentrati

She awoke in somewhat of a groggy, unhappy state. And the blade wound still stung for some reason. Despite herself, she was still worried about Ezio's welfare. That, and she couldn't stop picturing that _look_ in his eyes - it was so … feral. Gemma shook her head, forbidding herself to dwell on it, and decided right then that she needed to visit Alessio. A happy distraction was just what she needed. And so, she put her hair in an updo, slipped on a simple green dress, and set off. Leonardo was far too busy diddling with something or other - she stopped attempting to keep track of that man's artwork after the fifth commission - so leaving wasn't a hassle.

The _Palazzo Esposito _wasn't as big as the _Palazzo Medici_, but it was still rather impressive, enough to make Gemma stop a moment and to take everything in. She carefully knocked on the set of double doors, and came face to face with an extremely beautiful woman with chocolate waves that seemed to ripple to her back, a rounded, regal face and piercing blue eyes.

"Ah, Gemma," Daniela Esposito smiled just a bit, "a nice surprise to see you again. Alessio is in the study with his father - you may join them if you like." She nodded in gratitude and politely shuffled into the manor, eyes roving all over the beautiful décor. She easily found the study, and tried to make herself comfortable on an armchair without causing a disturbance. Alessio's father, Leandro, was what one would call a man of few words. His eyes, dark brown and mysterious, took in her entering figure without a single twitch of his sharp facial features. She didn't understand how Alessio got his personality from these two.

"Gemma?" Alessio looked up from the massive book on the desk where he sat. "What are you doing here?" She shrugged. The boy glanced at his father, who narrowed his eyes, but nodded once.

"Very well," Leandro murmured, "you may leave."

"_Grazie_, father," Alessio said quickly, bowing and taking hold of Gemma's wrist, _"andiamo_, you look like you need some fresh air._"_ Without a moment's hesitation, they were out the door and walking very quickly down the Venetian streets. She was suddenly reminded of his disappearance the previous day. "Sorry about yesterday." He didn't explain his reasoning, nor did he continue with the subject. It was confusing to Gemma, but Alessio was needed for a distraction, not to dwell on the subject she was trying to avoid in the first place.

He took her to the market place again, and this time they were ambushed by three different bards, all singing completely different songs horribly off key. It was extremely awkward trying to get by them – it almost seemed like they were _purposely_ following them around. When they were surrounded and forced back to back, something suddenly overtook Gemma, and she grabbed Alessio's wrist, and rammed her way through the minstrels. When they got away, both teenagers couldn't contain their laughter, and were reduced to hysterical wrecks on the ground, not even noticing the looks the citizens were given them that easily questioned their sanity.

For the rest of the afternoon they wandered around Venice, and Alessio managed to find things to prattle on about the entire time. He didn't even allow her to dwell on Ezio and Rosa for more than two seconds before he broke off into a completely irrelevant topic. Thus was why she needed him around, this careless boy that made her feel temporarily careless, too.

"Gemma, are you listening to me?" He snapped her out her reverie. The girl shook her head, seeing no need to lie about it. He laughed, playfully mussing her head. "I _said_ you should find yourself a husband one of these days." Her cheeks unconsciously went a bit pink, taken off guard. Feeling particularly childish, she stuck her tongue out, jabbed her finger into his stomach and bolted off. Gemma didn't really understand the motivation _behind_ this action, but she managed to effectively – and immaturely – evade the topic for the moment, her thoughts very briefly flashing to Cecilio.

The Florentine teenager easily outran her Venetian friend, appearing right next to an extremely large tower, and concealed herself in the shadows. Feeling so wonderfully childish, she leapt into a nearby cart of hay, and awaited to see a confused Alessio. Instead, she got a rather unpleasant scene as she peeked through the straw.

"Ah, Ezio, so reckless," Rosa murmured, laughing softly, "how is it that after having an extremely high fever, and two arrows in your back, you don't seem the slight bit wounded?" He pushed the thief against the wall that sat right next to the hay cart, an arrogant smirk on his scarred lips.

"Because you are a wonderful nurse, _cara_," he replied suavely, running his hands up her shirt, "and I cannot just rest while I still have many things to do." Gemma felt like a genuine stalker, but she couldn't peel her eyes away from this – and attempted to ignore her increasing heart rate.

Rosa whined a bit when his mouth was buried against her neck. "I didn't save you for nothing, _idiota_, you should try and rest for a day, at least." Her hands clenched tightly against the hay in the cart. Her hand unconsciously wandered to the wound she'd gotten, and it was then that everything that she'd been trying to avoid came back to haunt her. _She_ found Ezio, _she_ went out of her way to get him to safety, _she_ didn't leave his side for a second, and _she _was the one that got the blade on her neck.

"You're underestimating me," he murmured, growling playfully against the thief, "and I cannot _afford_ to lie down, and you know it." They continued on for what felt like _beyond_ a sane amount of time – but she knew if that she moved she'd alert both of them. All in all, she was stuck there, and dreading every second of it. Gemma didn't understand why she was so … _annoyed_ at seeing this. She thanked whatever deity was looking out for her when Alessio ran forward, tirelessly examining the area for his companion, and interrupting the two of them.

He raised an eyebrow. "Wow, you heal pretty fast." Confused, and annoyed that Alessio was here, Ezio leaned off of Rosa, and crossed his arms across his chest.

"How did you know about that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. This took Rosa off guard, she hadn't even _seen_ this boy anywhere near Ezio yesterday.

"Gemma freaked out when she found you unconscious," he explained impatiently, still searching for any sign of his friend, "she even got a hold of those thieves – you know, you shouldn't be so goddamned reckless with things."

Ezio's eyebrows rose at this, and he shifted his gaze to Rosa. "You told me _you_ found me, Rosa."

The thief exhaled, exasperated. "Alright, I lied, that little girl did." She could feel herself slowly growing a bit smug, but didn't dare move.

"That's rather cruel of you, Rosa," Ezio said, disappointment in his voice, but he left it at that, turning back to the Templar child, "where is Gemma?"

"I have absolutely no idea." He grumbled. "She's hiding right now, actually."

Ezio groaned. "So you let her run off all alone into the city?"

"She's not an imbecile," Alessio reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'm sure that wherever she's hiding, she can find her way back – after all, I _am_ an excellent tour guide. You need to stop treating her like she's a disabled, clueless little _cucciolo_ – it's frustrating."

This boy's boldness and outright disrespect, once again, was easily trying Ezio's thin patience. "You speak so confidently, boy. Tell me, are you suggesting that you know her better than I do?"

"Oh, I'm not suggesting it," he replied without a moment's hesitation, "I _know_ I do. I see no need to suggest anything."

Ezio's hand clenched into a fist, but before a testosterone-fueled dispute could erupt, Rosa decided to intervene. "Ezio, are you really going to fight with this _ragazzo_ when it's getting late? That _piccina_ might get lost." Rosa was right – Ezio didn't want a repeat on what had happened before. He never wanted to see Gemma in that sort of state again, and so without a word more, he strode off. Alessio, feeling a bit defeated, decided to not give up, and find his friend before Ezio did, bolting off.

When both men were gone, Rosa casually strolled over to the cart, and leaned down. "Now we're even, little girl." It took a few seconds before Gemma finally emerged from the cart, covered head to toe in hay, that she decided to tail Ezio instead of Alessio. The reason for this, she didn't know – there was a strange magnetic force that compelled her to – she supposed.

It was rather simple to catch up with Ezio – he stood out like a sore thumb when he wasn't trying to blend in. Gemma never understood that man's outfit; if he wanted to successfully be unseen, why go out of his way to look so off from the rest? Ignoring her strange speculations, she ran by Ezio, pretending to completely disregard his presence. He took the bait without a second thought, deciding to follow her and see where she was going. Ezio also found himself quite amused at how she was covered in scattered amounts of hay.

Gemma, of course, was a step ahead, easily weaving her way through the crowds after all that time watching Ezio do it. Her smaller size gave her the upper hand, though, and she risked a look back, and rejoiced in the fact that the clump was too thick for him to see her, and she dove into another cart of hay, feeling, once again, like an absolute child. Ezio ran by, stopping right next to her hiding place, extremely confused. He was fairly sure he didn't _imagine_ Gemma, and he took pride in the fact that he was usually always able to never lose sight of his target.

The girl's hand shot out, latching on to the assassin's wrist, startling him so much that his hand immediately unsheathed the blade at his side. He expected her to be frightened, but instead, she couldn't contain the massive fit of giggles that bubbled through her lips, and she fell backwards onto the soft surface, clutching her sides. Ezio found himself unable to look away from her expression – she'd never laughed like this in his presence, only ever with Alessio, something he'd always managed to find a reason to scowl to, and found himself laughing along, too.

"Alright, you've had your fun, _piccina_," he said, poking the tip of her nose, "but actually, I want to talk to you about something." She tilted her head slightly, but eased out of the wooden cart, and tried to brush off the hay she was basically soaking in. Ezio chuckled, deciding to help her and brushed off the straw on her head and hair. His hand, however, froze when he saw the long cut that extended from her jaw to her collar bone.

"Gemma," he said slowly, his hand reaching up and gingerly brushing his fingertips down the wound, and as he did this, he felt strange, like this was familiar, "what happened to you?" Her face went pink, and she immediately flashed back to that scene.

Somehow, her lips started to move on their own. "It's … nothing." Her voice didn't reach above a whisper, but it was beginning to lose its usual metallic twang.

His eyes widened, and he grinned, lifting her face up with his hand. "It's _not_ nothing if you feel the need to speak about it." Gemma sighed, striding forward without a word more. Ezio, however, wasn't even done, pulling her backwards and forcing her to look at him. His expression was frightening. "I need to know who did that." His eyes looked particularly murderous – to a point of which telling him would be even more difficult. She vouched for silence, shaking her head and looking down to the ground.

"Wait a minute …" Ezio murmured, beginning to remember that nightmare he had – which involved him killing someone; a girl, if he remembered correctly, "Gemma, you were with me when I was … unconscious, correct?" She nodded quickly, noticing the warmth in her cheeks was beginning to grow more pronounced. She also noticed that 'unconscious' was muttered in a bit of an unhappy grumble. He was sulking, in that regard. She found that to be oddly cute. He suddenly groaned, cupping her face with his hands. "_Mi dispiace veramente_, Gemma, you went out of your way to help me and I hurt you."

His tone – it was so soft, so apologetic, she couldn't help but close her eyes and lean into his touch, something he didn't expect. "I do not blame you, Ezio." She wanted to convey that to him – it seemed like he was truly regretful, after all. This, however, enhanced the assassin's previous fears. He could feel something strong inside himself as he looked upon this girl. He very much wanted to keep her around, but for her to be around him for too long was dangerous. Too dangerous. He had to make sure none of his enemies knew about her, and kill Emilio Barbarigo quickly. It was too easy to deem her a weakness – and she could be killed in order to get to him. He wouldn't allow that. She had to get back to Firenze, and quickly.

The thought of her leaving annoyed Ezio somehow, and he shoved that thought into the back of his head as he came back to reality.

"_Grazie_, Gemma," he murmured, smiling, glancing at the darkening sky, "I'll take you back to Leonardo, if you like." She nodded, growing a bit tired from the insanity of today's events. The walk back was silent, with both parties occasionally stealing glances at one another. Leonardo was tiredly diddling with his artwork when they arrived – and he seemed to be in the middle of a breakthrough, as much grumbling and cursing could be heard from the artist, so they retreated to Gemma's room without saying a word more.

"How are you … on your feet so quickly?" She whispered, sitting at the edge of the bed. He shrugged, a smirk spreading across his lips. He felt rather smug in the respect that she only ever spoke to him.

"I cannot afford to lie down," he explained, "I imagine by tomorrow evening, I will do what needs to be done, and I can take you back to Firenze." She didn't reply, taking in the mixture of strange emotions that flooded into her head. The thought of going back to Firenze was uplifting, but there was still that … odd sadness about the whole thing. Gemma had never been this happy – she'd never had so many friends, and so many things to smile about. Leonardo, Alessio, … and now, Ezio. All cherished friends in different ways.

She still had a duty to her mother. To a point of which, she had to leave. Her mother was the type not to fare well without a man for too long. That, however, would be worried about when the time came. She wanted to experiment with a few things, first. She'd most likely kick herself in the morning, but that, once again, would be dealt with in a few hours.

"Well," he said awkwardly, his endless insight with women failing him, "_buona notte_, Gemma, sweet dreams."

Gemma bit her lip, sighing. "Wait," she murmured, so quietly that she began to wonder if he'd even heard her, "I … haven't been able to sleep lately. Could you please stay?"

A gentle smile graced Ezio's lips. "_Certamente_,_ cara_," she curled into a little ball at the edge of the bed, smiling just a bit when he crouched at her bedside, his hood down, and his handsome face both concerned and content, "now tell me, what haunts your pretty dreams?"

"Ferro." She replied, and it wasn't even a lie. That man was the subject of her nightmares three consecutive times – and it was enough to drive her insane.

"He is dead." Ezio vowed, a darkness overcoming his tone and expression as he recalled that _bastardo_. "He now rots in the deepest pit of _inferno_, _no preoccuparvi_." _And I am headed there as well_, he added mentally, though refrained from saying it aloud, not wanting to disturb her already wounded mind.

"Thank you, Ezio," she whispered, marveling in his presence – she didn't understand how words came so easily with him, it's as if she knew he'd listen, "you are not like the other men in Firenze."

He nodded, stroking the top of her head. "You sound like you've lost hope in men."

"I have." She agreed quietly.

He laughed at her bluntness. "Why's that?"

"Women are just play things to them. It's as if we don't have to feelings – we're only truly around for the use of our bodies," now that she was speaking to him, the need to say what's been on her mind was strong, "and it's sickening." Ezio's eyebrows knit together uncomfortably, and he decided to rapidly change the subject.

"Gemma," he murmured, "why is it that you did not speak?"

She didn't answer for a few moments, sighing. "I was taught that what I had to say meant nothing to anyone. I was simply a noise in the back of the room that no one wants to hear, and … my mother beat me many times when I spoke out of turn."

His teeth clenched unconsciously, and he placed both of his hands on either side of her face. "That is horrible. Everyone's voice should be heard, and yours is no exception." Her eyes widened briefly, but then fluttered shut.

"You are the first person to tell me this," she placed one of her hands over his, clutching it, "thank you." She allowed herself to drift off into a peaceful sleep, all the while holding on to Ezio's hand, as if feebly attempting to keep him there and not disappear the next morning. She knew better, but it was still a nice belief.

Ezio didn't budge from that position for a long time, only adjusting himself once so that his back was against the edge of the mattress. He didn't let go of her hand, though. It was warm and soft. Gemma slept soundly – she trusted him. It was a thought that filled him with pride and warmth, but once again, that grave feeling. If he allowed himself to care for her too deeply, he wasn't sure what would result. Ezio was aware that he was a selfish man – he would like nothing more than to keep her right by his side, unharmed, protected, and happy. This was a fantasy, however, and he knew it. His lifestyle would never allow it, she would always be a target. The Templars would find a way to get information out of her, despite Gemma's silence. They'd stoop to any level.

"You are, in a way, a weakness of mine,_ mia cara_," he whispered apologetically, "I must return you to Firenze – and quickly."

– – – – – –

**A/N: Hooray for fluff! I'm such a fluff-sucker, I swear. This chapter, unfortunately, took a bit longer than I originally planned. OTL; Nonetheless, though, I've planned ahead this time and will probably (hopefully) get things done much quicker. 8D Heh, thank you for the patience and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.**

**Italian to English Dictionary:**

_**Andiamo**_** – let's go.**

_**Cucciolo –**_** puppy. **

_**Mi dispiace veramente –**_** I'm truly sorry. **

_**Buona notte –**_** Good night.**

_**Certamente**_** – Certainly, of course.**

_**Inferno**_** – hell.**

_**No preoccuparvi –**_** Not to worry, don't worry. **


	8. Casa Dolce Casa

The Confidant

Chapter 8: Casa Dolce Casa

Gemma awoke prematurely – and noticed in her half-conscious state that Ezio was still very much there, and his breathing was labored as he slept. Their fingers, somehow, were laced together, and it made her smile through the dim light of the rising sun. He hadn't left just yet. He cringed weakly, muttering something unintelligible. Gemma sighed, then, carefully lifting herself off of the modest cot and prodding Ezio in the face with her finger.

"Come on, Ezio," she whispered, gently pushing him on, "you need sleep." He grumbled and cursed, but did what the voice told him to, rolling on to the mattress and slipping back into a deep sleep. What he was going to do that evening required all of his strength and attentiveness. Secretly, though, Gemma wanted to watch him sleep, to watch the subtle changes in his facial expression, and maybe try to guess what a man like him dreamt of.

His young, handsome face seemed troubled, his mouth turned into a downward scowl. She sighed, walking to the edge of the bed and sitting.

"This is generous of you," he says after a few moments, startling her, "but not necessary. I do not require a bed to sleep."

She rolled her eyes. "You're tired. You need your strength more than I."

"_Cara_," he murmured, "you underestimate me once again. I cannot stand by and deprive a woman from sleep. It is not how I was raised."

"It looks like you're just going to have to deal with it." She mused in a whisper, suppressing a laugh at his expression that clearly showed a loss of patience. Ezio decided to give in, his body aching with exhaustion, and succumbed to his selfishness. If she was offering it – wouldn't it be rude to deny her? With that twisted logic secured in his head, he allowed himself to enter a dreamless sleep.

* * *

She didn't realize when she had fallen asleep, but she woke up on the bed, with no sign of the assassin anywhere. It appeared to be mid-afternoon; it seemed she was more tired than she originally thought. She got dressed, quickly retreating to Leonardo. As soon as she entered the room, a smug smirk could be seen on the artist's lips.

"Ezio seemed rather content this morning," he pointed out, waggling his eyebrows, "I never thought you'd be so bold." She immediately went red in the face, crossing her arms across her chest, and vigorously shaking her head. Leonardo laughed at her, playfully mussing the top of her head. "Ah, to be as young as you and falling in lo–!"

Gemma quickly clamped her hand over the loud man's mouth, giving him a glare that had enough power to kill ten men. Leonardo, however, was completely unaffected, snickering and scurrying off to do whatever he does.

***

Late in the evening, she became bold, and wandered to the _Palazzo della Seta_ to check if the deed was done. Ezio had warned her in the past not to go out at night, but her curiosity consumed her. She could hear whoops and hoots of celebration when she got there, and she attempted to peek her head through the already open door as if to see what's going on. Ezio seemed to be talking to Antonio – and she quickly ducked out of his field of vision, listening in.

"Emilio was meeting with a man named Carlo," Ezio explained to him, "he looked to be a government official. Do you know him?"

"Carlo Grimaldi." Antonio answered without a second of hesitation, "He sits on the Council of Ten, why do you ask? What are you up to?"

A long silence ensued. "I have a meeting to attend," he strolled out of the building, apparently not noticing Gemma's presence, and he strode out of sight – when she deemed it safe, she tried to get back to Leonardo's workshop – but Ezio swooped down from above with a disapproving raise of his eyebrow, shooting her heart rate forward from the sheer shock, "I'm truly hurt if you think I didn't notice you, Gemma."

She evaded his gaze sheepishly. "It was a nice thought."

He chuckled softly, casually putting his arm around her shoulder, and they began walking towards the workshop. "You're anxious to return home, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "I … feel an obligation to." Although she never raised her voice higher than a whisper with him, Gemma was happy he always managed to hear her.

"Care to explain?"

"I don't think you care."

"Gemma," he groaned, rolling his eyes, "of course I care. I always want to know what you're thinking about, and what you want to say. Do not think ever think otherwise."

She smiled, chuckling. "My mother … I'm all she has left."

"Forgive me for saying this," Ezio murmured, "but your mother … does not sound like a very good person." She actually sounded absolutely horrible – and Ezio wasn't exactly comfortable letting Gemma go back into that house, but he knew Gemma wouldn't like to hear that.

"She is … rough around the edges," she whispered, "but it has been hard for her." It took many hours in her room in Leonardo's workshop to contemplate this, to find a reason why she shouldn't outwardly despise that woman. It made sense – her mother's upbringing taught her the discipline she enforced, and when her father died, she was driven into a pit of despair. She had to return home – to comfort her, to stop being a selfish brat.

"She beat you, Gemma, rendering you to silence." He deadpanned, his hand tightening on her shoulder.

"We cannot all have lavish lifestyles, Ezio," she reminded him lithely, "and although I do not think what she did was … right, I can understand why she did it. The beatings only ever increased when father died." His teeth clenched at this.

"I'm sor–"

"No," she interrupted immediately, "I have already gotten past that, perhaps you should, too." And with that, she strode out of his grip, and Ezio watched her retreating figure with raised eyebrows.

Ezio sighed, easily catching up. "You are strong, _mia cara_ – but you do not have to put up a _facciata_ in my presence."

"I'm not," she disagreed quietly, "believe it or not, I am not one of the delicate little Florentine _fiori _you've dealt with in the past. I know my duties." Her tone was icy, a temperature he wasn't used to in regards to women. He knew one thing though; she was raised to be an adult too early in her life. He thought back to when he knew nothing of being an Assassin – Gemma would have most certainly looked down on him and his behavior.

"Actually," he changed the subject quickly, "I am going to need you to be patient for just a little bit longer."

"Why is that?" She glanced backward, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"I cannot afford to leave for another three days," he explained, a bit of apology in his tone, "there is something very important I must do."

"Which is?" He paused, then promising to explain as soon as they were in an area where they could not be heard. He owed her this, after all. When they got to the workshop, Leonardo was working on a commission, so they went to the other side. Gemma casually sat down in a wooden chair.

"The man I killed just now," Ezio began, "he and a man named Carlo Grimaldi spoke of a meeting in three days that I must go to – and a trip to Firenze and back is too lengthy a journey for me to return in time to listen in. You understand, yes?"

"_Si_," she answered, sighing, "but I want to know something – may I ask you a question?"

He smiled. "Always."

"Why did you kill him?"

Ezio hesitated for a second, but the look on her face told him he could trust her. "He was closely connected to the death of my father and brothers, and oppressed Venezia. It is good that I got rid of him."

"Your work, though, is not done." It wasn't an inquiry – more of a statement. He nodded grimly, crouching down to her level.

"I have a question for you," she nodded, waiting, "what … exactly is your relationship with that Alessio Esposito?"

"He's a close friend." Gemma replied, confused at the suspicion and slight anger in his tone. "I do not understand why you hate him, Ezio."

"I do not hate him," he retorted, frustrated, "it's his family that worries me. They do not exactly … like me."

"And why is that?" He didn't realize until it was too late of the dangerous territory he got himself involved in. Ezio wanted to keep her in the dark about this – what good would it do her if she was leaving to Firenze, to live out her life peacefully? The knowledge of Templars and Assassins should only be given to those who are directly involved – he doesn't want to burden her with details like that.

"I do not know." He says, trying not to sound defensive, or blatantly lying. "I just want you to be wary of him. He could use you to get to me."

"Whatever his parents are up to, he most likely does not know anything of it." She said confidently, crossing her arms across her chest. "Alessio has so much freedom, is so carefree, and his face has the semblance of complete ignorance." Ezio exhaled sharply, but left it at that. He wanted her to stay completely ignorant as well – and Gemma was a sharp girl, if he continued on with the subject, she'd get even more suspicious than he knew she already was.

Firenze was a beautiful site after being away from it for so long. The smells were familiar, and the atmosphere was nostalgic. Although she missed Venice, and those within it a very great deal – Leonardo made a point out of saying goodbye a very dramatic fiasco, _especially_ when she told him goodbye – she was ready to make up with her mother, to _talk_ to with her, and discuss their mutual differences. Strangely enough, she couldn't even _find_ Alessio to tell him goodbye. It was a bit hurtful.

Ezio didn't seem as pleasantly nostalgic as she was, as his face held a concerning darkness. She understood, though – his past with this city was not exactly a positive thing.

"Your face seems more cheerful," Ezio noted when they were halfway to her house, "though, to be honest, I am not confident in what your mother will do when she sees you again. Perhaps I should speak to her …?"

"Absolutely not," Gemma disagreed, chuckling, "she'd throw a fit. My mother is the type to make insane assumptions, and believe them without a second's notice. Seeing you will only … reinforce her own beliefs. I'll handle it."

Ezio grinned. "I am proud of you, Gemma. You speak so clearly now."

She smiled sheepishly. "Only to those I know will listen to me." The walk back was peaceful, and when they finally got back to the house, Gemma felt herself get a very powerful urge. Ezio interrupted her mental deliberation with a stroke of her cheek with his finger.

"Take care of yourself, _mia cara_," he said gently, "my business in Venezia is not finished – but when it is, I'll make a point of visiting you."

"Good." He turned and began to walk away. Her mind yelled at her that he was getting away, and she'd lose her chance. Summoning her courage, she strode forward and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, confused, she stood on her toes and placed a powerful kiss on his lips – which were surprisingly soft. He stiffened in absolute shock, not expecting this. "_Grazie_, Ezio." Her voice was a whisper when she broke free of him, her cheeks a bright shade of red reminiscent of a tomato.

When she attempted to walk away, he grabbed her wrist and slammed her against the brick wall of the side of her house, the shadows making his expression, and his eyes, even more alluring. "_That_ was not fair."

She smirked despite herself. "And why is that?"

"Because I have half a mind to kidnap you again." He warned her darkly, his breath fanning her face and feeding the flames that resided in her skin. He returned the favor, then, devastating her with a heart-stopping kiss only ever acquired with the practice he had with this field. Gemma's skin was set ablaze, and she weakly wrapped her arms around his neck during the assault, in fear of turning to ash like firewood as his arms wrapped around her waist. He released her after a few moments, a look on his face that seemed far from satisfied.

Gemma refused to make it seem like he'd affected her, but her breathless state made it extremely difficult. "Your business in Venezia … you should get back to it."

He grunted, but nodded, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. "You're right – I will come see you when time allows it, so keep yourself safe until then." It seemed more like a dark promise than a friendly one, but she nodded nonetheless.

"_Buon viaggo e buona fortuna_, Ezio." She murmured as he leaned away and his warmth began to fade.

"To you as well." And he was gone in a flash. Feeling a bit dazed, she wandered back into her house and took in the familiar smell. She called out to her mother a few times, but received no answer. Quickly concluding that she must be out, Gemma decided to be a bit bold and wander around the city, and familiarize herself with it again. It while she ran that she realized how much of a positive impact being kidnapped had been on her. She'd made friends, and regained her voice. And now it was time for her and her mother to move on, and regain the happiness they'd lost. Maybe, just maybe, Ezio could be a part of everything, as well.

She felt a bit … special, when it came to him. She wasn't familiar with this feeling in her chest.

Gemma placed two fingers to her lips in an attempt to memorize that _feeling_ she had not so long ago, like she was on fire. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she was a bit blissful. That, however, was soon interrupted when she could hear the soft murmurings of two people when she passed the _Palazzo Vespucci_, and one of them, she knew.

"Ezio," came the woman's soft, sultry voice, "_ti penso sempre_, why did it take you this long to come see me?"

"_Mi dispiace_, _amore mia, _I could not make it to Firenze as quickly as I had hoped." His voice as he spoke to this voice – it was clear to her – a man in love – and it made her chest tighten.

"Manfredo is … kind, but he is boring, and too serious. I want _you_ to be the one I share a bed with, not him!"

"I know, Cristina, but you know it cannot be done. _Ti voglio bene_, _dio e tutti gli suoi angeli_ cannot keep me from you." Gemma slid against the wall to her bottom upon hearing this. Reality had decided to slap her in the face so soon? How cruel. There was no room for her in his life – and she had been the one that forced herself on him just moments ago. She tasted shame in her throat, and a loss of pride. If that was the case – why did he respond the way he did? He seemed perfectly content with her boldness. Her hands and teeth clenched, but tears did not come. She knew better than to shed tears for something like this.

How wasteful.

Lifting herself off of the ground, and forcing herself to breathe and have some pride, she turned on her heel in the direction of her house, careful not to alert him to her presence. Ezio's current preoccupation, however, was probably something that could easily distract him. When she finally got back home, she walked into the house and up the stairs, needing the sanctuary of her room. As she passed her parent's room, something stopped her in her tracks. A body lay in the middle of the room.

Cautiously, Gemma steps into her mother's room, falling to her knees at the sight that she finally takes in. Capricia Rizza was dead – her eyes, green like Gemma's, glossy and staring up at the ceiling with a hopeless expression. The only visible blood was around her lips, and that meant one thing. She'd been poisoned – but by who? Desperately, she sought an answer, eyes shifting to the intricate letter that sat on her father's desk. With shaking hands, she tore it open and began.

_Mia Gemma,_

_ If you ever read this, know that I am sorry for everything I have caused you. I prayed to God that you had not suffered anything when you were taken from me. I would not blame you, however, if you had ran away. It was a natural response to my cruelty, my harshness. Your father, bless him, always held me back when I beat you for far too long. I regret it with everything – it was I whom reduced you to silence, it was all my doing, and for that, I feel the need to pay the price. The bank is about to take the house, for there is nothing an old woman like me can do with herself. I would not even make it as a whore._

_ So now, I am not even sure if I can join your father. I expect God to not forgive me for the pain that I have caused my only child, and that is fine by me. I should've told you how much you mean to me when I had the chance, my daughter. You were my everything, and it took me until you were gone to truly, truly realize it. I am sorry – I had convinced myself that everything I was doing, I did for you. Forgive your mother's weakness._

_Madre_

Gemma's hands were clammy as she held on to the last remains of her mother's sanity, taking note of the discarded vial near the woman's corpse. She didn't get a chance to tell her she figured out how to speak again, or how she'd managed to make a best friend in a famous painter, or how, for the first time, she could have fallen in love. With her father's murderer. Could have.

Gemma slowly reached down and closed her mother's eyes, and began to realize the river flowing on her cheeks. Everything hurt. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't properly think.

All she could do was scream – but not enough to alert anyone. Just to alert _herself_ – to tell herself she's snapped. Gemma curled into a ball against her mother's still stomach, clutching the letter with weak fingers, and cried. Again and again and again. Just when she thought that, after half an hour, she was done, she wasn't even halfway through. Her body needed this – this release of everything she's bottled up from the world.

It was nighttime when she was fed up for the moment, and drifted into a black abyss, fed up and exhausted, realizing that her voice shriveled and died in that moment.

Gemma opened her tired eyes to people talking. A voice she heard and recognized confused her – what in the world was he doing there? His voice, soft and carefree, rang in her ears.

"Wake up, Gemma," he cooed, carefully prying his friend off of her mother, "_andiamo_, you're safe with me." Her eyes snapped open, wide and surprised at the sight before her. Freckles, blue-gray eyes, and light brown hair. What was Alessio doing there?

"_Ser _Alessio," said a voice she didn't know, and she looked over to a man with jet black hair and a wrinkled, unkind face, "we must not delay. The assassin most likely knows of our presence by now."

Alessio gave the man a sharp look as he gingerly lifted her into his arms with ease. "Gemma just lost her mother, Alfeo. Have a heart."

The man scoffed. "I still do not see why were are going out of our way for the mute, unwanted scraps of that assassin. It's not like she has information for us." Once again, Alessio glared at his servant, giving him a quick look and gesture that said _she can write._ Gemma was too busy dealing with the painful clenching of her heart at his words to notice.

"_Chiudi il culo_," he snapped at his servant, then looking down to the girl with an expression that mirrored that of death, "Ezio can't hurt you like he did anymore, Gemma. I'll protect you. We're going back to Venezia, you won't ever have to see his face again, and you'll be happy." Alessio didn't want to do this, but the assassin had already killed Emilio Barbarigo, and could foil the plan to take over Venezia, as well. Every man had an Achilles' heel, and Gemma probably knew what it was. It just took a little coaxing, and for her to trust him. He knew she did, so this could be simple.

* * *

**A/N: I quite like this balance I have. Surprisingly enough, I had a whole 'nother plot twist planned before I ran it past my literary consultant (fancy term for a friend that knows more than me) and she came up with this instead, since my old idea made no sense. And it didn't, so I thank her for helping me out. And I'm also happy I didn't put enough fluff to make a nice sweater and scarf, because, as we all know, I'm a sucker for it. Stay linked for the next installment, and I hope you can convey what you think in the form of a polite review. (:**

_**Italian to English Dictionary:**_

_**Facciata **_** - Facade**

_**Fiori –**_** Flowers**

_**Buon viaggo e buona fortuna – **_**Safe journey, and good luck.**

_**Ti penso sempre –**_** I always think of you.**

_**Amore mia –**_** My darling.**

_**Ti voglio bene - **_** I love you.**

_**Dio e tutti gli suoi angeli –**_** God and all of his angels.**

_**Chiudi il culo**_** – Shut the fuck up.**


	9. Ragazza Stupida

The Confidant

Chapter 9: Ragazza Stupida

The time it took Gemma to get back to Venice was all a blur. She didn't keep track of the time of day, or where she was, because she didn't feel a need to. The entire time, Alessio towed her around like a lifeless rag doll, until she was suddenly back in the city. She was actually a bit grateful that she wasn't in Firenze anymore. It was a way to take her mind off of her mother, if only for a little while. Her hair hung uncared for in her face, and she stared straight, eyes fixated on the back of Alessio's head.

Those eyes, however, shifted when she could hear laughing. She knew those voices, too. Two different shades of green met, and Rosa's eyes visibly knit together at the sight of her. Gemma didn't attempt to look away, seeing as there was nothing for her to hide, blankly staring at the woman. Rosa herself was confused at this sight. Ezio had told her that Gemma was back in Firenze, and he did it with such an _interesting_ expression on his face. The look in that girl's eyes lacked all form of emotion – and it was a strange thing indeed.

"Rosa?" Ezio called curiously as he noticed she wasn't even listening. "What are you looking at?" Rosa was reminded of his expression when speaking of Gemma, and a bitter feeling stirred in her stomach.

"_Niente_." she replied casually.

* * *

Gemma didn't take the time to register the lavishness of Alessio's manor, and she soon found herself suddenly sitting in an extremely comfy chair in his room. Her friend carefully got down on his knees, and looked up into the dulling emeralds of her eyes.

"I know you are hurt right now," he said gently, "but I want you to listen to what I have to say. Ezio kept _everything_ from you – he must have told you that my family is against him, right?"

She nodded slowly.

"For good reason!" Alessio insisted. "My family is part of a secret organization called the Knights Templar," his eyes were bright and expressive as he explained this, and he seemed to be painting a picture with his hand gestures, "and we strive to bring _peace_ to the world – through a unification of all of _Italia_! I ask that you think about it, all of these senseless wars between cities only bring out unnecessary death and destruction." Gemma was familiar with the term _Templar_, from when she eavesdropped on Ezio.

"Ezio is an Assassin," he continued, scowling, "and they wish to uproot all of our hard work and determination, Gemma – and bring chaos! There's a _reason_ Ezio is always somewhere else, because he is killing the men that wish to bring peace! He's a war-monger! A reckless, crazy _bastardo_ that cannot be controlled! His pretty face is only there to deceive you, and get you to trust him – and right when you did, Gemma, look what happened!" He gestured to her sadly, grasping her chin with two fingers.

"_I_ would never do something so vile," Alessio said softly, smiling, "and trust _me_ when I say that I have no Cristina Vespuccis hidden up my sleeve." How he came about this knowledge, she wasn't sure, though Gemma winced at the mention of the woman's name. She could still clearly hear Ezio proclaiming his undying love to her. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

Alessio stood her to her feet and led her to a desk, where there sat a fresh piece of parchment and ink. Carefully, he sat the girl down. "All you have to do to help us is answer some questions – do you think it's possible? You are under no pressure, Gemma, I promise. You may say no if you wish." She stared down at the paper apprehensively for a few moments, but a small flame of anger at Alessio's words, which she deemed to be the truth in her confused, indecisive state. And so, she began, feeling that she was helping the world in a small way.

_What do you want to know_?

Alessio grinned from ear to ear, and placed a excited kiss on the top of her head. "I knew you'd see the right side of things! Now then – what kind of person is Ezio?"

Her fingers clenched around the quill. _He's a complex person to grasp. Though I know he is bent on revenge – his father and brothers were falsely accused of treason and hung. Ezio is openly very kind, especially to women. He's charming. Possibly one of the biggest womanizers in all of Italia._

Alessio nodded gravely. "And he missed out. His loss. Next, can you tell me what it is that he has been up to recently?"

_When he killed Emilio Barbarigo, he told me he was going to listen to a meeting he was supposed to attend. He seems to be after a man named Carlo Grimaldi – a government official._ Alessio's eyes widened at this. How could that guy even get into the Doge's palace?! Insanity. He couldn't pull it off.

"You do not know how much this helps us, Gemma," he murmured, easily hiding his inner frustration at how such a thing could be pulled off, "all you have to do is answer one more thing; do you know any of his close friends?"

Such an easy answer. _Leonardo da Vinci. A very close friend._

And the next target. Gemma's job was done. "_Grazie_, Gemma. What you have told us will undoubtedly bring Ezio down, and bring peace back," he lifted her into a cradle, the smile that she absolutely loved on his lips, "and now, _bella_, you can sleep. You've had a long day, and you must be tired." She felt so secure here. So safe from harm. Gemma welcomed sleep, and he gingerly laid her down on his massive bed, feeling triumphant.

Alessio exited the room with the parchment in hand, and met the impatient face of Alfeo. "And?"

He presented it in his servant's face. "I told you it would be simple." His voice was bored as he strolled down the hall.

"It was wise of you to follow after the girl, _Ser_ Alessio," he complimented him, his tone both proud and malicious, "but tell me, how did you know that she'd _be_ in that state?"

"Misfortune tends to follow after Gemma," Alessio explained matter-of-factly, "and besides, the assassin would not miss up the chance of making a move. She had been disregarding his advances, I could easily see that, but it seems that she finally gave in to temptation. That, of course, proved against her."

"And her mother's suicide?"

"An unexpected bonus," Alessio murmured coldly, "she was more vulnerable like this."

Alfeo grinned. "_Ser _Leandro will be so proud of you, I'm glad you finally decided to sway the girl in our favor. I was afraid that your allegiances were questionable for a few moments." Yes, it was the original plan to begin to coax Gemma for information. Alessio didn't want to do that to her, at the time. Now, he didn't see a choice. Control of the city was slipping from his family, and the House of Barbarigo, and desperate times called for desperate measures. He honestly did care for Gemma's welfare – but his parents and Alfeo could never learn this.

Too much was at stake.

* * *

Gemma awoke in the cold, empty room all alone. She rubbed her eyes, and automatically rewound to everything that had happened the night before. So that's what Ezio had been doing. She knew he was killing – but she didn't think there was an entire organization bent on it. It all made no sense – but, if Alessio was right, then Ezio was the wrong-doer in all of this. He was not killing for the city, he was killing for his organization, and for the sake of revenge. If she this was all for the greater good, then why did she feel like she betrayed Ezio's trust?

Gemma shook her head vigorously. He was the one at fault, and she helped bring an end to the chaos he was sure to start. She buried her face in her hands, unable to figure out what to do at that point, or what the hell she was even going to _do_ with herself. She couldn't just depend on Alessio for the rest of her life – and the most a teenage girl could do was become a whore, and it was a thought that made her blood boil. Her mother wouldn't have wanted that, neither would Leonardo.

She shot upright. Part of the information was for a friend, and she'd so stupidly told them about Leonardo. Secret organizations or not – _he was in danger._ The Leonardo who was so kind, so bright, so cheerful – and she had given him away. Her best friend. Gemma refused to fail another person whom she loved. Leonardo had done absolutely nothing to deserve that. And so, she stood to her feet, wobbling a bit in the process.

When she achieved appropriate footing, she quickly decided that she couldn't achieve an appropriate speed in this dress. The determined girl managed to find a simple white chemise, a gray doublet, and black pants that hugged her legs. Gemma didn't forget the dagger Ezio gave her, which she had kept in a scabbard against the skin of her thigh. There would most likely be a conflict. She wasn't going to be a helpless little girl – for Leonardo's sake. The clothes were baggy enough to hide her breasts.

The only remaining issue was her hair, which still stretched down to the beginning of her back, was a dead giveaway. Finally finding a hat, which greatly resembled Leonardo's, she stuffed her dark brown hair into it, and she looked sufficiently boyish enough. With her dagger clenched snugly in her wrists, she speedily made it onto the balcony, looked down, and went back into Alessio's room. Ezio was the only person who could make it to the ground without killing himself from that height.

Deeming herself bold, she opened the door and crept downstairs as silently as possible. She met the black eyes of Alfeo within seconds.

"Do you honestly think you can sneak out in this ridiculous outfit?" He sneered, glaring at her condescendingly. Gemma's teeth ground together, her impatience growing, and she quickly slammed her foot straight into the one place one shouldn't kick, and dashed off before she even had time to hear his groan of agony. The adrenaline she felt was rushing in her system, and she kept running faster and faster until her legs _screamed_ that they couldn't go any speedier. On the way, she managed to shove a large white figure out of her path, and she heard a distinct thud against a nearby wall. That, of course, didn't matter. The door to Leonardo's workshop was wide open, and she could hear deep voices.

There was no time to lose.

* * *

Things were peaceful, but far from satisfying. Ezio wasn't sure what he was going to make of everything with Cristina. He loved her, but he could do nothing about it. And then there was Gemma. He didn't understand what he felt for her. When they were in that dark alley together, there was a fire in his belly when he touched her. He wanted to touch _more_ of her. Far more. That girl was a mystery to him, and it was frustrating to a point of which he wanted to return to Florence. He was forced out of his reverie when a small, speedy figure shoved him out of the way with a great deal of force, and he went flying into the wall of a nearby building.

Grumbling to himself, he glared at the direction of the offender, who was already disappearing out of sight. From what he could make of it in that second, the person was a holding a dagger, and was headed towards Leonardo's workshop. His first thought after this deduction was the sheer _speed_ of the rude runner, this was most certainly not an average thief. He unconsciously checked if his money was in tact. It was, so he decided to pay his friend the artist a visit.

A Codex Page needed to be deciphered, anyway.

* * *

Alessio and a group of three guards surrounded Leonardo, who was strapped to a chair, and was looking very confused and frightened.

"Again," he insisted, "I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Don't lie to us, _pezzo di merda_!" One of the guards, who was dressed in a blue beret that indicated his low rank and skill ability.

"I can assure you, I'm not lying!" Leonardo had a sincere look in his bright blue eyes, but Alessio was wiser than this.

"There's no use lying, artist," he said, walking forward with a smirk, "because we already know of your relation to the Assassin." He presented the piece of parchment to Leonardo's face.

"That handwriting–!"

Alessio nodded. "Yes. Gemma told us everything."

"You're lying, _bastardo_!" The artist snarled, thrashing in his seat, refusing to believe it. "Gemma is back in Firenze!"

"We brought her back," the Esposito heir replied simply, "after all, she's alone, now."

Leonardo's eyebrows tented together. "What do you mean?"

"Her mother's committed suicide," he explained remorselessly, "and Ezio was too busy with the beautiful Cristina Vespucci to care. Poor little Gemma was wounded to pieces, you see."

"And so you take advantage of a vulnerable girl?!" Leonardo demanded.

"All women are vulnerable. And besides, I was there in her time of need. A very simple formula," his tone was so infuriating to Leonardo, who now wanted nothing more than to fatally wound the one that Gemma trusted so deeply over the past few weeks, "now are you going to tell us what the Assassin plans to do to kill _Ser _Carlo Grimaldi, or are we making this difficult?"

Leonardo's teeth ground together. "I will not betray my friends."

"_Pezzo di merda!_" Another of the guards roared, in the armor of a lieutenant. "You _will_ talk or you _will_ die a painful death, _lurido porco_!" He punched Leonardo in the cheek, and Gemma, who had come in just as it happened, didn't waste any time, dashing forward and positioning herself directly in front of Leonardo.

"_Ma che cazzo_–!?"

"Gemma!" Alessio bellowed, easily recognizing her face in his clothes. "What are you doing? You are interfering with the process! Can't you see we're saving the city?" He shifted his expression to the one he knew she loved, but she didn't budge, furiously shaking her head, and glancing backward to Leonardo with a reassuring half of a smile. She didn't care who was saving who, all she wanted to do was to protect Leonardo, holding the dagger threateningly in the faces of his attackers.

The lieutenant was amused by this display. "Are you actually going to be stopped by a _piccina_?" At the use of this word, her nostrils flared and she lunged forward, slicing it across the throat of the one who spoke it. Her hands and lips trembled as he fell to the ground with a gurgle.

"You little bitch!" The low ranked guard grabbed the scruff of her collar. "_I'll kill you_–!" She was quickly grabbed and shoved behind Alessio, who didn't look pleased.

"You obviously care about this man," he said gently, not giving up her trust just yet, "I won't hurt him, I promise."

"He's lying!" Leonardo pleaded from his seat. "Listen to me, he's only trying to _use_ you–!" Leonardo froze in mid-sentence, eyes widening in horror. "_No_!"

Gemma stumbled forward when something sharp slashed across her back. A sword? She wasn't even allowed to feel the pain when something even sharper hissed and went into her side, and she met the ground, her body now deciding it would be a good time to feel the overwhelming pain. She couldn't take it, and she began to black out, the figure in white she pushed out of the turned her over, and she met his eyes which were the brown she didn't expect.

"_Requiescat in pa–_!" He stopped when the hat slipped off and her hair fell down in her face, and he got a nice good look at her as the world faded. "… Gemma?"

* * *

Leonardo was in trouble. The door was wide open, and he could hear screaming. His hidden blade hissed from its resting place and he stormed inside. Judging by the lavishness of the clothing and the quality of the hat, this was Alessio, who seemed to be a bit hidden behind the back of one who he assumed was his father. How did he come to figure out this information? Goddamn Templars.

Ezio hesitated for half a second, considering Gemma's reaction to the death of her friend. He wouldn't allow him to threaten Leonardo any longer, though, and he was sure Gemma would agree. He would tell Gemma that he caught an unexpected case of plague. Besides, in a way, Alessio was competition. Ezio unsheathed his sword and sliced the skin of Alessio's back.

"_No_!" Leonardo bellowed, confusing the Assassin. He buried his hidden blade into the boy's side, and he tumbled to the ground with a sharp gasp. The hat he was wearing fell off, and when he turned him over to pay his respects, Ezio froze in horror, his heart clenching at the sight of his victim. One who he thought was a few hundred miles away.

Gemma.

* * *

**A/N: Heheh. I got to stay home from school today, and this came pretty naturally. It's 'bout time I wrote some proper action. Oh, and I like to thank all the awesome reviewers who keep motivating me to continue this piece. Thanks, guys, and I hope you liked it. :D**

_**English to Italian Dictionary:**_

_**Niente –**_** Nothing.**

_**Bella – **_**Beautiful.**

_**Pezzo di merda –**_** Piece of shit.**

_**Lurido porco –**_** Filthy pig.**

_**Ma che cazzo – **_**What the fuck was that/this?**

_**Requiescat in pace –**_** Rest in peace.**


	10. Aquila

**A/N: Y'all know the drill. Assassin's Creed, sadly enough, isn't owned by yours truly. Goddamned Frenchmen … /grumble grumble. **

The Confidant

Chapter 10: Aquila

She wondered how she wasn't dead. She wished she was. Everything ached and stung. Gemma managed to open her eyes to find herself back in her room in Leonardo's house, and her first thought was to see if he was alright. She wanted to know if she failed him, heaving herself upright. She audibly winced at the pain, finally noticing she was shirtless besides a large roll of bandages wrapped all around her torso and hips. The girl still, however, was wearing Alessio's pants.

Gemma's teeth ground together as she attempted to stable herself on her feet. How long had she been out? She grunted, but ignored the pain, supporting herself on the walls of the room and down the stairs. Leonardo and Ezio were surrounded around the same giant flying machine that she saw on the day she met Leonardo in the first place.

"I can't believe it! It worked! It really worked!" The faint ghost of a grin appeared on Gemma's lips when she heard the raw excitement in Leonardo's voice. He was safe. "You flew, Ezio! You _flew_!" As much as she wanted to hear Leonardo's excitement, Gemma couldn't stand anymore and fell to her knees, coughing up a few drops of blood. It managed to sufficiently alarm them.

"Gemma!" Both Ezio and Leonardo cried in unison, and Ezio appeared at her side almost instantly. It was confusing to see him there.

A mixture of extreme relief and anger flashed on his face. "_Grazie a Dio_, you're alright," he grunted, pulling her into a tender embrace, "you scared the hell out of me, _mia cara_ – but what are you doing straining yourself?" She didn't return the gesture, as much as she secretly wanted to. Gemma was too busy trying not to go red in the face. Ezio carefully let go of her and lifted her into a cradle, and she stared at Leonardo, eyes fixated on the bruise on his cheek. She bit her lip in guilt. He noticed, laughing softly and gliding over to her.

Before Leonardo could even hug her himself, she all but threw herself into his arms, and he easily lifted her, her hands clutching the back of his cape tightly. She knew she was probably overreacting, but she didn't care, she felt so guilty. He chuckled, tightening his hold on her, as if she had just spoken her thoughts aloud. "I'm fine, Gemma – I promise. Just a little scratch. _You_, on the other hand, are the person I should be asking this question."

Ezio, attempting to conceal the very large pout on his face, returned his attention to the flying machine. "_Si_ … I flew, Leonardo, but not very far."

"Well, what were you expecting?" Leonardo replied, gingerly leaning Gemma's body against the wall and getting back to business. "The machine wasn't designed for distance! Alright, look, let me go over my plans here. Maybe I can find some way to extend the duration of the flight." He strode over to his blueprints, tirelessly going over them.

"Ezio!" Antonio called, storming in and then looking down at the bandaged girl. "Ah – so you're alright, Gemma. Good. I was getting sick of his depressing attitude."

"_What _exactly did you need, Antonio?" Ezio cut in, crossing his arms across his chest.

The leader of the thieves laughed, but continued. "My men tell me Carlo has the poison. We must hurry."

"Antonio, this is Leonardo." He said, gesturing to the fluttering artist. "The master inventor … who built this … this … _pezzo di merda_."

"Hey!" The master inventor interjected from his desk. "It's not the machine's fault! It's mine … I've checked and rechecked my blueprints. It's just impossible! I don't know how to _extend_ the flight … ! Ah, _che __idea del cazzo!_"

There was a bit of an awkward silence as Leonardo stared intensely into the flames of his fireplace, watching the piece of paper he hurled into it float. Gemma could visibly see the idea popping into his brilliant head a few seconds later.

"_Eureka!_ Of _course_! _Genio_!"

"What's he doing now?" Antonio asked, and all Ezio could do was shrug. Gemma, on the other hand, couldn't help but giggle, but fiercely regretted it, audibly cringing, and in her attempt to be silent, it made it sound like a vulnerable squeak of agony.

"Gemma?" Ezio's hands were suddenly on her face, and she could feel her cheeks heating up. "Tell me where it hurts, _cara_, I want to help." Half of the motivation for this offer was to get her to talk to him again. He was the only one she ever spoke to that he knew of – and he liked it. It brought him a form of warmth that he couldn't exactly explain, nor understand. All he wanted to do now, though, was get past his guilt of _putting_ her in this condition. Her lack of reply easily frustrated him.

"Heat rises." Leonardo mused. "It needs fire! Heated air under its wings will lift the machine …."

"Leonardo." Ezio called out, frustrated and a bit annoyed. "What good is _one_ fire going to do?"

"Not one fire, Ezio." Leonardo replied matter-of-factly, meeting his eyes. "A dozen! Built all across the city! Enough to carry you from here all the way to the _Palazzo Ducale_." She couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, floating in and out of consciousness.

"Hey," a voice she couldn't help but recognize called out, but she suddenly felt a great deal of warmth all around her, "wake up, I don't want you blacking out just after you woke up." This wasn't helping Gemma's resolve to stop _feeling_ anything towards Ezio. He was carrying her up the stairs like the most fragile piece of porcelain, and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be feeling towards it. Her first reaction was annoyance, because if he had a willing, beautiful woman waiting for him, why was he going out of his way to help her?

The second reaction was mushed into the feeling of relief when he laid her back down on the soft bed, and she was grateful for the lack of searing pain ripping through her back.

"You were out for two weeks, Gemma," he murmured, sighing, "and it drove me a bit insane – even more so when your little … friend ran off, and I am above killing children, but still …," Ezio knew how tempted he was to, though, considering the suffering that boy had put Gemma through. When it turned out to be Gemma who he almost killed – he was fairly hell bent on getting Alessio. Leonardo, however, convinced him otherwise, proposing that he make this decision when Gemma would wake up again.

The man downstairs, of course, had found a way to keep her fed and hydrated – but she was pale, and colorless, and could've looked sufficiently dead to anyone who didn't know the situation. The dark bags under her eyes and exhaustion in her expression didn't help, either. He was personally responsible for this.

"Leonardo … told me about your mother," he began in an awkward, yet soft voice, sitting at her bedside and stroking her cheek, "_mi dispiace veramente_, _mia cara_, I shouldn't have let you go in there alone, I should have …" he trailed off, unable to find a decent way to comfort her, fearing he might just twist the knife in her wound. Gemma weakly shook her head, attempting to toss to her side, but realized it was her bad side, and she audibly cried out, clutching the pain with clenched teeth.

"Gemma!" He felt helpless. "Don't do that! Moving around is too painful, just sit still. I know it's a difficult thing for you, but at least try." His attempt at lightening the mood failed, because her expression didn't change, nor even twitched in acknowledgment.

This situation was getting increasingly uncomfortable. She didn't want to be sucked into this man's vortex of no return while he was already attached to another Florentine beauty. It wasn't fair, nor was it healthy. He wasn't making it any easier, either, especially when she could suddenly feel his forehead against her own.

"What you're dealing with … I cannot imagine it," he murmured, closing his eyes, his voice ever so soft and cotton, "I just want you to know you're not alone. I'm here – and so is Leonardo." And then he leaned in for the kill. Gemma's eyes shot to the size of plates, and she rolled on to her good side, watching with red cheeks as his lips met the fabric of the pillow in a rather comical display.

"_Ezio_!" She thanked whatever deity was looking over her for Leonardo. "You need to go and get rid of the guards! Stop harassing my patient!"

"I'm coming!" Ezio bellowed, a bit cranky at such blatant rejection. "_Buona notte_, _piccina_." With that grumpily said, he stalked out of the room, gently closing it behind him. When his footsteps could no longer be heard, she audibly sighed, waiting for her heart rate to calm down.

* * *

"I don't understand her." Ezio snapped as he stormed past Leonardo. "Back in Firenze, she kissed me, and now she's acting as if _nothing_ happened – and like I have the plague, for that matter!" Leonardo almost told him about her witnessing of everything with Cristina, but saved this for another time. He had enough on his mind.

"You're probably overreacting, Ezio," Leonardo said, uninterested in his rants, "she's not herself right now."

"Says the one she clung on to," the assassin grumbled, finally realizing how stupidly he was acting, and groaned, "listen to me – I sound like a _pazzo." _He made a mental note about visiting a brothel after everything was taken care of. The women there were far less confusing, and fairly straightforward.

Leonardo laughed at him. "No matter how many women you have charmed, Ezio, you'll never truly understand them." He chuckled at his own joke, and the assassin grumbled a creative assortment of profanities under his breath, walking out of the workshop, determined that killing some guards will take his mind off of things. Besides, he wasn't about to let anything interfere with killing Carlo Grimaldi.

* * *

The sound of creaking footsteps woke Gemma out of her unconscious stupor, and she watched through tired eyes as Leonardo made his way inside.

"This little condition of yours has helped me learn a little more about the human body." He said with a grin, and she rolled her eyes, sarcastically grateful that this managed to help _some_one. "You know, Ezio's going to fly. With my machine! Isn't that exciting?" She gave him an obvious _I'll-believe-it-when-I-see-it_ look, which he returned with a triumphant smile.

"Don't believe me, eh? Well, my little skeptic, you're going to see him off with me, with these." He presented a pair of crutches similar to the ones Rosa wore when she first met the thief. She carefully sat up, allowing herself to be ushered into the wooden devices. It was a bit uncomfortable, but Leonardo had put extremely soft padding, so her underarms wouldn't get too sore too quickly. It was difficult getting used to, but she slowly began to get the hang of it.

Leonardo had her quickly change into a chemise of his to cover the bandages, and they were soon strolling through the city to get to the highest tower. Antonio was there, too, and had volunteered to carry Gemma to the top of the tower while Leonardo got his machine and the proper materials to set it up for Ezio.

"So, Gemma," he said, his expression holding a friendly curiosity, "I have heard quite a bit about you from Ezio and Rosa. You are indeed an interesting individual – tell me, is it all that hard not … speaking?" As she's done with every other person that's asked this exact question, Gemma sighed and shrugged. He threw his head back, laughing hardily.

They reached the top of the tower, and set the ramp and flying machine up for the insane pilot, who arrived roughly five minutes later. A look of surprise came on his face when he registered the spectators.

"Gemma?" He asked, a bit of disapproval in his tone. "What are you doing up here?"

"Well, she didn't believe me when I told her you were going to fly," Leonardo explained, laughing mischievously, "so I thought I ought to make a believer out of her."

"While she was wounded." He deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "And dressed like a boy." Gemma rolled her eyes, making a fully audible click of annoyance with her teeth, and gestured to the machine with a look that clearly said; _just go already. _Ezio laughed, and he turned to examine his method of transportation for the evening. While he did so, Gemma's eyebrows knit together, silently hoping he'd make it out of this alive and unharmed, as he always did. Leonardo and Antonio gave him a quick briefing on what was supposed to be done, and what to avoid.

Gemma watched, awed as the fires seen all across the rooftops of Venezia danced in the wind of the evening. The beauty would be a bit more impressive if Ezio wasn't about to jump off and most likely kill himself in the process.

"It's now or never, _amico mio_." Antonio murmured, gesturing to the 'giant bat', as Ezio had once put it, walking into the machine and readying himself. Without a single glance backward, he dashed forward, leaping off of the platform and soaring into the sky like an eagle, and she couldn't peel her eyes away from it, her jaw slighting dropping.

"What is that you were saying?" Leonardo asked smugly, smirking at her mouth hanging open. She smiled, resisting the urge to laugh.

* * *

A prompt slamming of the door the next evening startled Gemma out of her current train of thought, and she put on her crutches and hobbled downstairs to meet a sour-looking Ezio and a befuddled artist fluttering around him. A part of her heaved a very large sigh of acute relief. He supposedly killed the Doge on his little conquest, from what they heard from the heralds.

"I was trying to save him, Leonardo. But the truth matters little." He groaned. "I failed, and now I'm the most wanted man in Venezia."

"Well, perhaps you are in luck!" Leonardo said cheerfully, having a solution up his sleeve. "It's Carnevale in Venezia – this is the time when everybody goes without a face!" Gemma unconsciously bit her lip in envy. She'd often heard of the Carnevale, and wondered what it would be like to be there. But now she couldn't, since she was basically a cripple. Ezio apparently noticed her expression.

"That's why I'm here." He said shortly. "Do you have two masks?"

"Why two?" Leonardo asked, confused, rummaging through his chest.

Ezio glanced backward at Gemma with a broad smirk. "I have a guest coming, and it'd be awfully rude of me to wear a mask while she didn't." Gemma, misunderstanding who he was speaking of, promptly evaded his gaze to hide her teeth clenching. _How horrible of him to blatantly point out –!_ Gemma began to think furiously before a mask came over her face.

"Perfect." Ezio mused, chuckling. "It suits you beautifully, _mia cara_." He placed the mask in her hands. It was white and simple, but had a single green jewel in its forehead. She mentally rolled her eyes at Ezio's wonderful sense of humor.

"Aha …" Leonardo murmured, scanning a Codex Page he had been given. "This one's quite complex … hm … it's a new design, my friend. A mechanism for your wrist, but not a blade. In fact, it seems to be a kind of _arma da fuoco_ – but as small as a hummingbird!"

"Is that possible?" Ezio asked, voicing Gemma's own question.

"I have no idea. Let's build it and find out!" It took nearly an hour and a half for this to be built, and Ezio spent this time examining Leonardo, and Gemma decided to watch as well, fascinated in this little mini cannon her friend was creating. When Ezio ran outside to try it out, he came back five minutes later looking sufficiently satisfied.

"You've done me good, brother." He exclaimed, grinning.

"_Ma certo. _But I'm sure your return was not just to play with new toys. Is it about this terrible new Doge they've installed … Marco Barbarigo?"_ Barbarigo. _That was familiar. "Then you'll want to speak with your friend Antonio. I've seen him quite a bit lately at a, um, mutual friend's. I'd look for him there – in the Dorsduro district – to the south. Ask for Sister Teodora."

Ezio raised an eyebrow. "Sister?" Gemma sighed heavily. Of course, he had more business to take care of, and couldn't take her to the Carnevale, it was expected. She couldn't say that she wasn't disappointed, though. "Hey – why the long face? I didn't say I wasn't going to take you to the Carnevale."

Her eyes lit up in sheer excitement when he said this, and he laughed, putting on his mask. She carefully put her own mask on her face, and made her way to the door before Ezio stopped her. "What, you think I'm going to let you see the Carnevale with those? Nonsense! You're getting on my back, it'll be easier that way." He turned around and crouched down on one knee, proving his point.

Gemma hesitated for obvious reasons, glancing nervously at Leonardo, who in turn gave her a bold wink and gestured for her to go ahead. Tentatively, she tossed aside her crutches and leaned down, wrapping her arms around Ezio's neck, and he handled the rest, his strong hands going under her thighs, and they were all set. Leonardo laughed, waving his goodbyes, and they were out the door.

"Gemma, I truly messed up." He murmured as they strolled through the night. "Now the Barbarigos have the entire city in their grasp. There must be something I can do about it – and I will find out." Gemma sighed, tightening her hold on his neck, wishing he'd just stop thinking about it just this once, and relax. She glanced up at the stars, their brightness heightened by the fireworks shooting off into the sky. Unconsciously, her hand reached up as if to catch the lights.

"What are you doing?" Ezio asked, laughing as he glanced behind him. Her hand shot back to Ezio's neck, tightening on the collar of his shirt. "I want to touch them, too, you know. It felt like I could have done so when I was flying." In reality, of course, Ezio was far too busy avoiding the flaming arrows and not plowing face-first into the nearby buildings to notice the stars, but for the sake of the moment, he went with it.

* * *

**A/N: My apologies for the slight filler. Been having a bit of writer's block, but I assure you, I'll try my best to get things squared away. I'm considering breaking off into a sequel, not wanting to bore you with another climax, because I have an idea in mind, if I decide to go with the traditional rules of plot and whatnot. And so, I'm going to ask you all if you think it's a good idea or not. I look forward to your opinions! :D**

_**Italian to English Dictionary:**_

_**Genio**_**: Genius.**

_**Che idea del cazzo:**_** Crazy fucking idea.**

_**Pazzo**_**: Madman, crazy person.**

_**Pezzo di merda**_**: Piece of shit.**

_**Mi dispiace veramente:**_** I'm truly sorry. **

_**Buona notte**_**: Goodnight. **

_**Amico mio**_**: My friend.**

_**Arma da fuoco**_**: Firearm. **

_**Ma certo**_**: Of course.**


	11. Carnevale

**A/N: Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue. c:**

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The Confidant

Chapter 11: Carnevale

It was, to say the least, a marvelous spectacle. There were performers all over the streets: dancing, singing, celebrating. Gemma's eyes were wide, taking in all of the sights around her, becoming engulfed in the merriness of it all. Ezio's warmth, too, was enough to keep her distracted from the darkness that often threatened to shatter the little remains of her sanity. He was a surprisingly skilled tour guide.

"You seem happy, _mia cara_," he observed, a smile in his voice, "I'm glad." Her hand tightened on the collar of his outfit, and she sighed a bit, content, feeling the need to ignore the dull sting that followed immediately thereafter.

Her brief moment of bliss was interrupted when she heard Ezio's breath hitch ever so slightly. Her eyes darted to the source, and she registered in the sight of a masked woman, donning a beautiful, light blue gown that accentuated her delicate features. She stood there, looking around, as if waiting for someone. He murmured something, then. It was barely audible, but she was leaning in close enough to be able make it out clearly. _Cristina_. Gemma's mind panicked. She began to think of irrational things – as she refused to lose this distraction. The first would be to run away. To get his attention away from Cristina.

No, she couldn't possibly do that without hurting herself. He was her only method of transportation, she couldn't walk around without the crutches. Her mind was split in half at this moment and the irrational, selfish, childish portion of her emotions easily took over. She didn't want to be left alone. When he moved more than an inch forward, his eyes still glued to Gemma's enemy, she reacted in the only way she knew how.

"Ez … Ezio." Her voice was a weak rasp, but it got his attention. "Maybe … we should go back to Leonardo."

His voice was surprised and alarmed, but his attention was successfully grabbed. "Why? Are you alright?"

"_Sono stanco_," she whispered, "and you … have business to take care of." He'd surely go back to her, then. She just didn't want to see it, or even think about it.

"_Se lo tu dici_, Gemma," Ezio replied softly, obvious concern in his voice. He turned on his heel and in the direction of the artist's house. Gemma leaned against him, clenching her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck in an attempt to push back the moisture that was threatening to seep out. She didn't even know why she had such a powerful feeling. She didn't realize, through her mental deliberation, that when he stopped he wasn't in front of Leonardo's workshop, but rather, a brothel. Her eyes widened.

"_Mi dispiace_, Gemma," he murmured apologetically, "but I have very little time to work things out – it'll only take a few moments – but I need to speak with Antonio about this business with the Doge. _Per favore_, I ask for your patience." He took her lack of reply for a yes, opening the door and entering.

Her first observation was the smell. It was a very strange, subtle scent. A mixture of alcohol and flowers, somehow. The assassin walked up to Antonio, who was happily nipping away at the neck of a courtesan.

"Antonio. We need to talk."

The thief paused, confused, until Ezio removed his mask. "_Ezio_!? Ezio Auditore! Teodora, meet the most … _ahem_ … talented man in all of Venezia," he paused again, grinning, "and with him is, I presume, Gemma, a very interesting woman." She silently removed her own mask.

"Why is she dressed like a _ragazzo_?" One of the courtesans asked a bit rudely.

"I bet Ezio just doesn't want other men to have a fair share," Antonio commented with a great, drunken laugh, "he's a bit of a _cazzo_ like that."

Ezio ignored this, bowing to Teodora and realizing just who she was. Gemma found it to be odd – the woman was a mix between a Madam and a nun, two _very_ different fields of work.

"Come! Join us, Ezio! Have a drink! Meet the ladies!" This merriment was abruptly interrupted by a shrill scream, and soon, a thief ran past them. He'd murdered one of the girls, and stole her money.

"So – _Messer_ Ezio – let's just see how talented you are. After him!" Ezio paused awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to do with the injured girl on his back. Running too quickly could hurt her.

"Go." She hissed in his ear, and he nodded, quickly, but carefully, placing her on a nearby armchair and darting off at the speed of a skilled assassin. When he was gone, the courtesans that didn't seem to care about their fallen comrade huddled all around Gemma with their hands on their hips, and an eyebrow raised in judgment. All three of them had identical, somewhat ridiculous hairstyles and extremely revealing, showy dresses. Nothing that Gemma didn't expect.

One grabbed her face, scrunching her cheeks together. "You couldn't be more than seventeen years old, why did Ezio bring you here? Are you his _sorellina_?"

"She looks more like his _fratellino_, to me." One commented, giggling. Gemma shoved her face out of the woman's grip, her teeth clenching. "She even has the attitude of a boy. How unbecoming!"

"Really, now, girls," the third one cooed, laughing in a very sultry manner, "what is there to be jealous of? Even if she was not related to Ezio, he couldn't possibly have touched her. Her face is plain, the only thing that stands out is those eyes – and eyes alone do not fuel a man's _uccello_."

The women mutually agreed, throwing their heads back and laughing. Gemma's hands clenched from where she sat, her temper flaring like a wild fire. She would've very much liked to punch them, but tried to convince herself that she was better. _She_ didn't sell herself, _she_ at least had control when she was jealous … for the most part.

One of the courtesans scowled. "You haven't said a single word since you got here," her blue eyes turned into a glare, "I think this little _boy_ thinks she's above us."

A dagger was suddenly up against her throat. "You do not know what is you're assuming, girl. Do not think that I won't–!"

"_Girls_!" Sister Teodora interjected harshly. "Leave her alone. I'm sure Ezio would _not_ be pleased if he comes back to find that you are threatening his guest." The trio hissed profanities under her breath, but stalked away, openly glaring at Gemma, who easily returned the gesture. Almost immediately thereafter, Ezio confidently strode back into the _bordello_.

They began to speak of Ezio's new plot to kill the recent Doge, Marco Barbarigo. Antonio expressly warned him that he never left his _palazzo_, and that this idea was basically impossible. They went on and on until it seemed that the only way Ezio could kill the Doge, was to get the Golden Mask that allowed him entry into his grand party. Gemma began to wonder if this was just an endless circle of assassinations – and if Ezio would ever truly be able to rest.

"I'll take you back before I go," Ezio said as he walked forward, lifting her safely into his arms, and he glanced backward at the Madam, "I shall return momentarily."

Sister Teodora waved him off with a simple gesture. "I am in no hurry." As they left, Gemma's eyes shifted to those three women, and she fiercely bit back the urge to stick her tongue out at them like a child, and instead looked subtly smug. Gemma didn't understand why she was so tired, but she began to drift, bobbing in and out of consciousness.

"Sleep, _cara_," he commanded gently, "no harm will come to you when I am around." A tiny smile played on her lips, and she sighed, curling herself closer against him, feeling no need to dwell on the fact that he was barely ever there in the first place.

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Ezio hadn't realized how big Venezia was until that moment, as he'd been walking for well over twenty minutes. He didn't really mind, as he was in no _true_ hurry. A great sense of pride surged through him when he watched the girl sleep in his arms, the one that trusted him enough to do so. Gemma had no family anymore. She was his responsibility as of now, that in itself was evident.

Still, as he watched her and continued walking, a sense of confusion filled his head. She had been able to stop him from going to Cristina, his Florentine rose, by simply whispering his name in that voice of hers. Ezio couldn't dig any deeper than that, when a blockade boldly stood in their way.

Alessio's tone was extremely bitter. "I see you haven't killed her. Such good news."

"You," the assassin smirked, and it had no hint of humor, "Such _coglioni_ for facing the man that would like nothing more than to kill you where you stand."

"You can't rightly do that with Gemma here, can you?" Alessio murmured, his voice bored and unamused by Ezio's empty threats. "So tell me, how long was she comatose by your stupidity?"

Ezio's jaw set, but he refused to let this boy get to him. "What is it that you want from me?"

"Actually, I've come to tell you something," the boy explained lithely, "my family is considering killing her."

"_What_?" He demanded, his arms tightening protectively. "Why?! She isn't involved in _any_ of–!"

"I told her everything." Alessio said with a shrug.

Ezio hands tightened where he held Gemma, hoping that she wasn't going to wake up. "_Miserabili pezzo di merda_! Why the hell would you put her in _danger_ like that?"

"To get the information _I_ needed," he said matter-of-factly, "you see, the poor little thing was a wreck when I found her. Her mother having committed suicide, and she heard you and that Vespucci woman professing your undying love for one another just _moments_ beforehand. Of course, that's null and void now, since you flew to the _palazzo_ like a goddamned _diavolo_." Ezio's eyes widened from under his hood. No wonder she'd been avoiding him.

"How the hell did_ you_ know about that?" Ezio said harshly.

"I followed her to Firenze."

"What – _exactly_ – did you tell her that makes your parents wish to kill her?"

"I told her who we were, and who _you_ were – that's all. They don't believe me, though, they think my judgment is clouded, and therefore think she should be eliminated."

Ezio groaned heavily, finally looking at Alessio very seriously. "Why is it that you tell me this?"

"It's my fault that she's in this mess," he murmured, turning on his heel, "and I won't have Gemma dying because of me. It's your responsibility, now that I have told you. Do what you will with this information – but if she is killed because of your stupidity, I'll personally put an_ end_ to you." With that said, Alessio all but vanished from sight. Ezio's teeth ground together, and he sped up until the workshop was in sight, and he almost ripped the door off of the hinges as he stormed in.

"Ezio!" Leonardo exclaimed, noticing the assassin's very infuriated expression. "_Cosa c'è, amico mio_?"

"I'll tell you in a second." He snarled in reply, disappearing up the stairs. Once he was in Gemma's room, he very carefully laid her sleeping figure down on the mattress, feeling an immense wave of guilt crash into his conscious. He pushed the hair out of her face, smiling inwardly at her peaceful expression. He had to get her out of Venezia.

But then – what about his business here? He wasn't even sure he could simply leave. Ezio decided that he'd simply kill Marco Barbarigo tonight, and then see where everything went from there. However, of one thing he was certain. He needed to get Gemma out of Venezia. Soon.

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She awoke in a groggy state, missing the warmth that enveloped her body like the most comfortable blanket. She didn't wake up in the best of moods – mostly because there was an extremely persistent artist shaking her awake.

"Gemma!" He called. "_Svegliati_, I must tell you something important!" Her eyes dragged open, and he proceeded. "_Mi dispiace_, my dear – but you're going to have to take a rather … unexpected trip. Ezio will explain everything when I take you to the carriage. You're going to have to trust me." Gemma wasn't truly sure what was going on, but she was dressed, decent, and ushered out the door by an impatient, concerned artist. It didn't help that she had to be using her crutches the entire time.

In her confused stupor, she soon found herself on a boat to Forli, with a rather serious-looking Assassin standing on the opposite end of the boat. In two long strides, he was standing directly in front of her, and his hand was against her cheek. She blinked in realization.

"Gemma, I'm so sorry," he murmured, his hood only accentuating the darkness in his eyes as she looked up, "but … you're going to have to stay with my uncle for a little while."

She hesitated, tenting her eyebrows. "Why …?"

She had a right to know. "Alessio's family wishes you dead, _mia cara_." He waited for her expression to become distressed and hopelessly confused that her best friend's family wanted her dead – but it never came. Gemma's face remained stoic, and she sighed.

"_Intesi,_" she whispered, slipping out of his grip like air, "I figured this would happen." She leaned against the edge of the boat, staring aimlessly as the water went by. She didn't ask why – she really didn't want to know. Not right now. Gemma _really_ wanted Ezio to just … disappear again, because she hated being vulnerable in his presence.

"Uh … Gemma?" He stood beside her all of a sudden. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"M'hm." she grunted, refusing to shift her gaze from the water.

He didn't believe her. "You should not lie to me, _cara_," his armored hand poked the very tip of her nose, "I'm particularly skilled in that field." That, she could easily believe. Unfortunately for him, she strategically moved around when he decided to get particularly friendly.

It was several hours until they got to Forli – and within minutes, Ezio had managed to find a horse black as midnight. He extended his hand, and easily lifted her up behind him. Gemma hesitated, but decided against falling off and killing herself, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly.

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Monteriggioni was a beautiful little town. Somehow, when she walked through the gates, she _did_ feel safe. They put the horse in the stables and she quickly followed behind Ezio as he strode to a very large mansion on a hill that overlooked the city. The people in the market paused as they walked by, examining Gemma with eyebrows raised. Ezio paused, looking straight at a young boy that had been staring at her. The poor child couldn't hold the man's gaze for more than five seconds without fearfully looking away.

"Gemma," he said, pointing to the villa, "that is the _Villa Auditore_ – my uncle Mario lives there, as does my sister Claudia, and my mother Maria." It was a very large villa – though it had vines stretching all across it.

"Hey, Ezio!" A mercenary called from the ring, waving. "Where the hell have you been, eh?"

"Where else?" Ezio replied back sarcastically, laughing. "Venezia is a demanding place, Demetrio, but she is beautiful still."

"Speaking of _bella_," Demetrio said pleasantly, hopping over the fence and striding in front of Gemma and Ezio, "who is your guest, Ezio?"

The corner of Ezio's lip twitched, but his expression didn't change. "A friend of mine," he walked past him, freezing briefly right near the mercenary's ear, "and _off limits._" The mercenary was a content-looking man with stubble along his jaw line – he looked quite young, actually – with a curly mess of black hair a bit caked with sweat. He threw his head back and laughed heartily, but nodded once, quickly winked at Gemma and made his way back to the ring.

"Ezio!" A man Gemma assumed was his uncle Mario exclaimed, hugging his nephew. The two men spoke quickly and briefly to each other, and all of a sudden, Mario turned to Gemma with a grin on his old, scarred face. "I'd be happy to have you with us, Gemma!" She nodded her thanks, her gaze shifting to Demetrio and another mercenary sparring in the battle circle.

A hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. "Here, I'll show you your room." He towed her up the stairs, through a strange tunnel and up a ladder to a cozy little room with a small bed and view of the city. "This was originally my room when I trained here." Gemma wandered to the window.

"It's beautiful." She whispered, mostly to herself. She wasn't even sure if he had heard her.

He did, and he smiled. "Yes, I like to come here whenever I can." He stood at her side, and Gemma awkwardly cleared her throat and floated to the opposite end of the room. All of a sudden, two hands slammed against the wall on either side of her face, trapping her there.

Ezio's hood was down – and it didn't subtract from the terrifying expression he had on his face. "I grow tired of your games, Gemma. My patience is all but worn out."

She's taken off guard, but doesn't submit. "I don't know what you're speaking of."

"_Oh_, yes you do," he growled, "as I am positive I don't have the plague – but you seem to be avoiding me like I have an invisible disease."

"Why does it concern you, even if I did?" Gemma asked lithely. "You're being unfair, you know."

"And why is that?"

"You demand my attention like this," she murmured, briefly gesturing to him, "while a poor young Florentine rose is waiting for you back in Firenze."

He paused, his jaw setting. "Cristina is married."

"I guessed."

Somehow, his face got closer. "She was the first woman I loved – but I know it's impossible." Gemma stared at him, her teeth clenching.

"Then this conversation is over, isn't it?" She ducked out of his trap, and attempted to get out of that awkward situation – as her heart was erratically pounding – but Ezio didn't seem to be done, grabbing her wrist and making her spin around right into him.

"You're not running away from me, Gemma," he said, his voice dangerous, "I have to figure out what it is that draws me to you." And with that, his lips devastated her own, his arms wrapping around her waist with the strength of iron bars; securing her there, preventing escape. Gemma's fist clenched, and she shoved against him, finally forcing him off of her.

Angry tears were in her eyes. "_Per favore_ – stop confusing me, Ezio! There are hundreds of women you could have whenever you deemed it fit – but why do you feel the need to mess with _me_? I … _can't_ anymore."

"I'm not messing with you!" He insisted softly.

"Then why is it that you kiss me when you love Cristina?"

"I do not love her like I did before." He explained, taking baby steps forward. "And I told you … it is impossible."

"I am no man's second choice!" She hissed quietly, glaring at him, despite the inward pain she felt in doing so. Ezio sighed, tentatively taking her face into his callused, rough hands.

"I admire your strength, _mia cara_," his voice was a whisper reminiscent of her own, his forehead now against her own, "but it's not necessary here. I vow to protect you from this moment on."

Gemma bit her lip, a fluttering feeling growing in her stomach. "Your pretty words are just that – words. You have to go back to Venezia, don't you?"

"And your safety will be on my mind the minute I leave." Ezio informed her gently. "As soon as I am done in Venezia – I will immediately come back to you." His lips grazed hers, and to her own alarm, she realized just how much she wanted to kiss him, too. The voice of reason was whispering words in her mind, however. He'd only use her.

"How do I know I can trust you?" She whispered weakly.

"You're talking to me, aren't you?" He silenced her protests with his mouth, and his hands moved from her face back to her waist, where he applied enough of his strength to make escape absolutely impossible but not enough to apply pressure to her wound. In the end, she tossed reason aside just for now, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surprising him – but only motivating him to continue the onslaught, and with greater force, and he carelessly tossed the crutches to another corner of the room.

All of a sudden, a red ribbon that had previously wrapped around his waist was tied around her wrist, and he brought that wrist up to his lips. "This serves as a warning, Gemma."

It took her a second to remember how to process thought coherently. "For what?"

"To the men of the city – that you are off limits to any _bastardo_ who would dare to try anything. They know what will happen."

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**A/N: This chapter took a bit longer than expected, but nonetheless, it's here! Heheh, I liked writing this – and I hoped you enjoyed reading it and will stay tuned for the next chapter. Oh, and thank you for the lovely reviews everyone, it really does motivate me to do my best in continuation of this. 8D 3**

_**Italian to English Dictionary:**_

_**Sono stanco:**_** I'm tired.**

_**Se lo tu dici**_**: Whatever you say/If you say so.**

_**Per favore**_**: Please.**

_**Sorellina**_**: Little sister.**

_**Fratellino**_**: Little brother.**

_**Uccello:**_** Dick. (Vulgar term)**

_**Coglioni –**_** Balls. (Vulgar term)**

_**Miserabili pezzo di merda**_**: Miserable piece of shit.**

_**Diavolo**_**: Demon/Devil.**

_**Cosa c'è, amico mio: **_**What's wrong, my friend?**

_**Svegliati**_**: Wake up!**

_**Intesi: **_**Understood.**

_**Bella**_**: Beautiful.**


	12. Allenare

The Confidant

Chapter 12: Allenare

It'd been a week since Ezio had left, and she'd finally been able to walk again after many trips to the doctor. Granted, she couldn't run as fast, but it was still much better than the crutches. Gemma specifically remembered Ezio leaving Monteriggioni looking absolutely ridiculous. It was the supposed uniform of his ancestor – and it made him stand out so horribly that she had to hold back her laughter. It was black, yes, but with white stripes on the sleeves? How he even _hoped_ to blend in to his surroundings, she didn't know.

Either way, the current problem at hand was the fact that she felt sufficiently helpless. A very powerful family wanted her head, and if they ever came while Ezio wasn't around, she'd be dead. Besides, she wouldn't ask the mercenaries to simply fight for her – this wasn't their battle. Often, she spent her time watching the mercenaries spar, as if to try and unconsciously pick up their moves. It didn't help that she had no idea how to handle a sword, though.

"Gemma!" Demetrio called. "You've been watching us for days – I know I am so devastatingly handsome you cannot look away – but it's quite unnerving." She laughed quietly, rolling her eyes. "Tell you what, would you like me to teach you how to fight?"

Gemma's eyes lit up a bit, but her face fell briefly, and she gestured to the ribbon around her wrist. The mercenary laughed. "He's been gone for a week, if he _really_ cared about his woman, he would have been back already. Besides, I do not fear Ezio." He ushered her into the ring and handed her a rather large iron sword, which she could barely lift up. He pursed his lips in deliberation, took it, and came back with a thinner, sharper, and lighter blade.

She was able to lift this one up far more easily, though her stance was awkward. Demetrio grinned, and they got to work.

"Your ass is grass, Demetrio." One of the other mercenaries commented, laughing heartily. "Teaching Ezio's woman how to fight, are you fucking crazy?"

"She seems to be fine with it." Demetrio retorted casually, easily dodging one of her slashes. "No, Gemma – analyze the enemy, don't put all of your strength into one blow – you're way too open for counter attacks." The girl nodded once, growing annoyed that she was constantly being spoken of as if she was Ezio's property, and her decisions weren't even hers to make.

"You're arrogant, _ragazzo_," the mercenary said, "even though you know you can't even _dream_ of taking Ezio in a fight."

"Hey, I've gotten much better!" Demetrio defended himself, scowling playfully.

"What's all this, then?" Mario appeared on the opposite end of the ring, his eyebrows raising in question when he saw Gemma with a sword. "Demetrio, what in the world are you teaching her?"

"Swordplay, _Ser_ Mario." He replied smugly. "Don't you think it's better that she learn to defend herself when Ezio isn't around?"

The mercenary from before laughed. "She's a woman, Demetrio! They are meant to stay quietly in the house, feed their husbands, and take care of the children – swordplay is most unbecoming of them." Her teeth clenched at this, and she turned on her heel, pointing the blade directly at the man's throat, raising an eyebrow in challenge. There were emerald flames in her eyes as she stared at him.

"She has spirit!" Mario remarked, throwing his head back and laughing. "Leave it to my _nipote_ to find such a strange one – come, Gemma, I shall teach you as I taught Ezio."

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Ezio rode up to the gates of Monteriggioni, annoyed, confused, and in a generally bad mood. That boat to Cyprus didn't make any sense – if it was a distraction, then what was it for? It'd already been three weeks. He was grateful that Gemma was waiting for him, though, untouched, safe and ready to run into his arms–

He heard the distinct roar of a crowd of men, and heard the clanging of swords. There must be a fairly interesting duel going on – the mercenaries didn't get this riled up unless they were all particularly drunk, and it was still mid-afternoon. The assassin, feeling in the mood for a good-spirited sparring session, quickened his pace to a brisk walk, ascending the stairs to examine the opponents. Ezio froze in horror, and then in fury at what he saw.

There was Gemma, wearing nothing but tight breast bindings and mercenary pants that looked very big for her small stature, caked in sweat. She faces off against Demetrio, both wearing profound smirks on their faces. Their swords meet, and the crowd roars their approval.

"Show him what you're made of,_ piccina_!" Cries one.

"Losing so easily to a _signorina_, Demetrio?!" Jeers another, laughing. He watches as she dodges Demetrio's slashes, doing somewhat of a dance-like spin, appearing behind him and shoving him forward. He turns around, grinning. Gemma appears to fight alongside her height and weight, depending on her size to be agile and hard to hit in a fight. What Ezio wanted to know was what possessed her to do so something so reckless. And around so many men.

A low snarl rips from Ezio's throat, and he storms forward, pushing past the crowd and hopping over the fence. The crowd freezes, going deathly silent. He wastes no time in effortlessly snatching Demetrio's weapon, tossing it to the ground and punching him square in the nose. He falls backward, clutching his now-bloody nose with an impudent glare.

"I warned you, _bastardo_." The assassin growls, snatching Gemma's wrist and presenting the ribbon there to him with a furious shake. "You see this?!_ Does it mean nothing to you_?"

"It means you're being a selfish _stronzo_," the young mercenary grounds out, "you disappear for three weeks and expect her to quietly wait in her room?!" Gemma snatches her wrist from Ezio's grip, and he whirls around, fully examining her with a flare of his nostrils.

Gemma has an almost unholy amount of skin showing. The sweat allows it to shine against the beating sun, and dark brown bangs cling to her face, as her hair is tied back. "What – in – all – the – _hells_ – do – you – think – you're – _doing_?" She doesn't answer, further infuriating him. The assassin grabbed her wrist and began to forcibly tow her out of the ring.

"Hey, Ezio," Demetrio called bitterly, "Gemma has quite the scar on her back, any idea how she got it?" Ezio stopped in his tracks, releasing her wrist and turning on his heel, and the hiss of his hidden blade rings in her ears. She reacts accordingly, appearing in front of Ezio and, with much effort on her part, deflecting his attack.

His nostrils flare, but her eyes easily hold his furious gaze. "Gemma – stand aside." She shakes her head, stretching her arms out, directly conveying that to get to Demetrio, he had to go through her. The mercenary had been very kind to her for the past weeks – he was a new friend. She would not sacrifice this because Ezio was in a bad mood.

Something of a sadistic smirk stretches across the assassin's lips. "Very well, let's just see what you've learned, _mia cara_."

Demetrio stood to his feet. "Ezio, she's still–!"

"You are going to leave this ring," he stated darkly, shifting his glare to the mercenary, "or I'll kill you where you stand, _pezzo di merda_." The hidden blade went back into its resting place, and he unsheathed the sword at his hip. "Now then, come at me."

Ezio wasn't himself, that in itself was evident. The fight began with Gemma attempting to get at Ezio, which he easily dodged with a metallic clang. His sword, sharper, lighter, more expensive, and far better crafted, overpowered her own, and it went sliding to the corner with a hiss.

He thought the fight was won, until her next move surprised him. Gemma grabbed the center of the blade, slammed her fist into his gut with all of her strength, and with a sharp _oof_, she snatched the blade from his grip. She took this time to silently thank Mario's relentless – if not insane – training. To get this move alone took an excruciating amount of time, and she probably only managed to pull it off on Ezio because he wasn't aware of this.

The mercenaries that were witnessing this were open-mouthed with surprise. All that time watching this woman fail at swordplay, it seemed, came back to haunt them.

One bold onlooker clapped his hands. "That's showing him, Gemma!" She didn't feel pride, however, as Ezio's expression easily made her heart sink. He looked betrayed. And so, she dropped the blade and wordlessly exited the ring, taking note of the gash on the palm of her hand. Claudia Auditore, who had grown fed up of all this racket and meant to go outside and give them a piece of her mind, took in the sight of Gemma as she walked towards the villa – and towards her brother, who was staring after her.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea!" She reminded her. "A proper lady shouldn't be playing with swords, Gemma!" She gave the woman an exasperated glare, storming into the manor, through Mario's office and down into the sanctuary, where Ezio had gotten his ancestor's ridiculous costume. It was much cooler down there. The girl wandered to the statue of Altaïr, and sat at his marble feet, staring at the ribbon around her wrist.

She didn't understand why he was so mad – wouldn't he be happy that she learned to defend herself? Save him less time? Could it be that he was jealous? Her cheeks warmed at the thought of it – but she couldn't stop picturing that look in his eyes when he was speaking to Demetrio. The eyes of a merciless killer, which she was very much aware he was. Gemma sighed, standing to her feet and wandering back up the stairs, where she heard furious, hushed voices.

"Have you finally gone mad, _zio_?" Ezio demanded harshly. "Teaching Gemma how to fight was–!"

"The proper thing to do?" Mario suggested calmly. "The girl's being targeted by a Templar family, Ezio, it's only rational I teach her how to fight," the man paused, then sighed, "Gemma, to eavesdrop is most impolite." She walked past them, making no move to look at Ezio – but took a few seconds to give Mario a properly annoyed look – wondering if a walk outside the village would be sufficient enough for her to sort out her thoughts.

Her wrist was quickly grabbed. "You are insane if you think I am letting you go out like that." Her teeth clenched, and she attempted to struggle free of him. He was far too strong, though. And so, for a last resort, she grabbed the hand that held her, pulled the sleeve back, brought it to her mouth and chomped down on his own wrist. "_Ow_! _Gemma_!" His hand retracted, and her mission was a success. She made a point of running out the room, ignoring the burst of laughter from the old man in the corner.

Gemma couldn't honestly care less about how she was dressed, but couldn't disregard the looks of disgust on the women of Monteriggioni's faces as she strolled by them. On top of everything, she felt eyes on her. She sighed briefly to herself, hastening the pace of her walk, and watched the dark figure on the rooftops trail after her through the corner of her eye. _Really, does he think he's being sneaky?_ Gemma thought with a scowl, her annoyance beginning to grow.

And so, in answer to this, she ran a full pelt down the trail and out through the gates, eyes darting for some form of hiding place. A hay cart would be _way_ too easy, but her eyes quickly fixated on an abandoned little place a few meters away. As she knew Ezio was right behind her, she sped off towards the fixture, flinging open the old door and tucking her knees against her chest under the window. She watched through the dirty glass as the darkly clad assassin stormed by, unable to understand why he was getting so fussy.

She'd never been able to depend on anyone, it always ended badly. She had been brought up to fend for herself, to not be vulnerable in front of others. Her mother had made a point about being strong, but having the appearance of being fragile. To attract men. They love it when their wives depend on them, her mother claimed. Her teeth clenched, forcing back any further memories. Distraction. Distraction. Gemma stood up, wiping away any expression on her face, and calmly strolled back through the gates.

Gemma looked up to a nearby rooftop, staring into the emotionless eyes of an assassin. He swooped down, and with blinding speed, lifted her up and over his shoulder like a sack. She didn't protest, nor even budge, her eyes fixating on the gravel on the ground. Soon enough, they were in her room, and he roughly set her down.

"Explain yourself." He commanded, putting his hood down, and his chocolate eyes looked exhausted, yet at the same time, were still very frightening. She looked down, unable to withstand the intensity of his expression. "_Answer me_, Gemma."

She didn't, further infuriating him. "I don't _ever_ want to see you in the ring, do you understand? And this," he gestures furiously to her outfit, "don't even set _foot_ outside dressed like this. Ever again." He turns on his heel, mumbling a brief _goodnight_ and attempts to leave.

What she says next stops him. "No."

He turns around, and she is looking straight at him, something of an emotionless smirk stretching across his lips. "You enjoy it, then?" He asked. "You enjoy running about like a man, when you're clearly the opposite?" The look in her eyes, so confident and straightforward, frustrates him. In terms of women, he's always been able to get what he wanted. Never had Ezio felt so ravenously possessive, and it annoyed him to no end. Why didn't she understand? Didn't she see the mercenary's _looks_ when she was pretending to be one of them?

"You don't decide what I can and can't do, Ezio." These words make him flinch for a moment, her tone was chilly. Enough to freeze him to the stop. Her eyes, green as an emerald, were narrowed, annoyed, and somewhat ablaze – it was a direct contrast to what he was used to. Rosa, with her eyes that resembled jade had a flirtatious spirit, and Cristina's brown, doe eyes that always looked at him with the utmost admiration.

He tries dissuading her, nonetheless. "Please, _mia cara_," he softens his tone, "you don't understand how they look at you – how much I want to kill them for doing so." His eyes unconsciously focus on her lips, which were parted. He swallows the lump in his throat, and concentrates. Despite his anger, he realized that this wasn't how one dealt with Gemma. She had enough yelling in her life. Her eyebrows slowly knit together, and she looks down.

"Did … something happen in Venezia?" She whispers, derailing him off the subject with the concern in her voice. He groans, plopping on the comforter, and stares up at the ceiling. He hadn't really been able to speak to anyone about it. There were few he trusted.

She was of those few, though. "I have been chasing the men who killed my father for eight years, and yet I do not know why I do, what my purpose is here. I have a feeling it is all for _something_, but for what?" She gently falls backward and lies beside him, her silence telling him that she does not have a reply, and he is fine with it.

"You'll figure it out," she murmurs, surprising him, "you always do." Ezio looked over to her, and the smallest of timid smiles was playing on her lips. He moved unconsciously. Maybe out of habit? Soon, he is hovering over Gemma, arms supporting himself on either side of her small body. He analyzes the slight changes in her expression. She's hesitant. Untrusting.

"You … are the most perplexing creature," he found himself whispering, pushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, "and you drive me insane." He leaned in, hoping she won't pull, or push him away. She doesn't, though, and her lips are trembling when they're just mere centimeters from touching. He cannot deny himself now. His selfishness was far too dominant a trait. He didn't care if she could be deemed a weakness. He would worry about it later.

"_Ezio_!" The assassin's nostrils flare. Damn that Mario. "You must come down here, _nipote_, it is urgent!" He quickly toys with his options, looking down at the woman now trying to awkwardly wriggle free from his grasp. A deep, feral growl rumbles in the pit of his stomach, and he seizes her chin, roughly meeting her lips in an impatient frenzy. He ventures deeper, coaxing her to part her lips, so that he may explore this territory, as he knows he does not have much time.

His senses, sensitive due to the nature of his job, picked up on the almost inaudible noises she makes as this goes on. Was she encouraging him? Did she actually–

"_Ezio_! _Dio mio,_ hurry up and come down here!" He snarled under his breath as he releases her, and both take a few moments to regain their breath. Curse the need for air.

He says it low, but makes his point. "Do not move. I am not through with you." He composes himself, and stands to his feet, striding forward and down the ladder.

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"Those goddamned Espositos …" Ezio growled, his fist clenching at his side. So they weren't after Gemma after all, they just needed him out of Venezia – and it probably had something to do with the boat to Cyprus. But then, he'd gone back to Venezia for weeks, and nothing happened! They chose a perfect time to plot against the new Doge – they knew Ezio would go back to Monteriggioni for quite some time. "Please excuse me, _zio_, I must go tell Gemma."

"Ezio," his uncle stopped him, and his scarred face was entirely serious, "you're treading dangerously,_ nipote_."

The man's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"They _will_ use any and every possible weakness you have," Mario warned him, "and that includes Gemma."

He was instantly defensive. "I am responsible for her – that does not make her a weakness."

"Think back to this morning," the old man pointed out, "your reaction to her fighting with the mercenaries. Do not pretend as if your behavior was not a fit of jealous rage."

"I was not jealous," Ezio snapped back, "she doesn't understand how dangerous they are – I needed to make an example of the situation!"

Mario sighed gravely, putting a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Do not fall in love with her, Ezio." At this, the Assassin's face slowly began to grow a bit warmer, and his lips turned down into a scowl. "Gemma is still young, and she's dealt with many things. From what I can assume from what you've told me, Alessio Esposito knows her, perhaps even more than you do. He could easily figure out a way to get what he wants."

"Gemma is strong," Ezio replied instantly, his fist clenching, "and she knows Alessio's true self now, she'd never do anything to betray me."

"So, that little mishap with your friend Leonardo was a coincidence? She _told_ him, Ezio."

"The girl had just lost her mother!" He was becoming quite annoyed by all of this. "She wasn't thinking straight – I do not blame her."

The old Assassin shook his head. "Alessio still knows how to sufficiently get any and every information out of her. He's a Templar. He'll tell her anything." The weight of his uncle's words were heavy on Ezio. The man could have been right. She was young, and no matter how strong she presented herself to be, Ezio knew there was a weak, vulnerable woman beyond the thick emotional wall. He'd only ever seen her once. Alessio, as well.

"She is safe here," Ezio said instead, "they do not know she's here, let alone you and I are."

"Do not underestimate your enemy, Ezio," Mario retorted matter-of-factly, "if you allow yourself to go further with this, you will give them a grave leverage. Her, as well."

Ezio looked at his uncle with narrowed eyes. "What are you implying?"

"If you submit to your growing affection for her," the old man said warningly, "she will hold the key to the most vulnerable part of you. Even the strongest man can be ruined by a woman – if ever her emotions got the best of her, as they have done before, she could give your enemies vital information."

"You do not trust her, do you?"

Mario shook his head. "Gemma is an interesting girl, and was a pleasure to work with," a dark, humorless smile stretched across his lips, and he gestured to his left eye, "but I know what it is like to feel betrayal by a pair of pretty eyes. I do not wish the same thing for you,_ nipote_." Ezio opened his mouth, but realized there was nothing further to say. With a brief bow of his head, he exited the room, and put his hood up, trailing up the stairs and into his mother's room.

"_Buona sera, _mother," he said routinely, placing five new feathers he came across in Venezia into the chest near where she prayed, "_non scordare mai quanto ti amo._" He turned to see inquisitive green eyes staring at this scene from the doorway.

"She … does not speak?" Gemma whispered, and a grim smile stretched across the Assassin's scarred lips.

"Not since my father and brothers hung for treason." Ezio calmly walked past her.

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I stood in that woman's doorway for a long time, blankly staring at her, registering what I had just heard. It made sense. Considering who Ezio was, and what he did, those who sought his life would easily deem me a liability. His Achilles' heel. Although the thought gave me a warm, fluttering feeling, I knew that I had to do something. The thought of me being the indirect result of Ezio losing control, or even dying, dispelled that warm feeling and made me feel sick to my stomach.

The thought of running off crossed my mind. Three times. It seemed foolish – but maybe not, with the right training, and maybe with the proper place to go. Mario would help me, considering what I had just heard. Maybe even Demetrio, too.

Either way, I had to speak to both of them.

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**A/N: Lol, a little dabbing in first-person can always make a slight difference. Where I intend to go with this story may or may not be liked among you all, but I assure you, I'm doing my best to keep it interesting. I'm not exactly sure of the mannerisms of Italian, because I know in the US we say "I love you!" way, way more frequently than them – to our friends, family, etc. In Romance languages, it's a little more special. So, forgive me if this sounds weird to you native Italian speakers out there, for I'm unsure how one says 'I love you' to a parent. With that said, stay linked for the next chapter. (:**

_**Italian to English Dictionary:**_

_**Stronzo**_**: Asshole.**

_**Zio**_**: Uncle.**

_**Nipote**_**: Nephew.**

_**Buona sera**_**: Good evening.**

_**Non scordare mai quanto ti amo:**_** Never forget that I love you.**


	13. Mascherata

The Confidant

Chapter 13: Mascherata

Ezio was leaving – again – for Venezia that afternoon. Somehow, a little instinct in her head told her to spend all the time she could with him, and she secretly wanted to go along with it. She even managed to get up extremely early, as if her body agreed with this sentiment. She was alone in the room, in a thin, white chemise. Claudia had given her something of a forceful bath – she shoved the girl into the bath house and all about assaulted her to get all the dirt and grime off of her tired body, which took half an hour, all the while grumbling that she might as well have been dealing with a teenage boy.

Since sleep obviously wasn't coming, she wandered down the ladder and out the door, listening to the subtle noises in the air as Monteriggioni slept. In those sounds, she heard the distinct tapping of footsteps on a rooftop, and she turned, looking up to see Ezio, almost inaudibly pacing back and forth, seeming to be muttering something to himself. A tiny, impish smile flashed on her lips, and in the spur of the moment, she dared herself to go up and meet him. She slinked to the side of the villa, trying to remember how Ezio managed to do it.

The first few tries failed rather horribly, and she ended up falling on her behind more than she would have liked. Her teeth clenched in determination – if Ezio could do it, why couldn't she? She gripped the edge of a nearby window, hoisting herself up and finding proper footing. She sighed, telling herself she only had to repeat this a few more times. She repeated the pattern twice more, almost to the top. Her arms reached up to the edge, and she could have easily been able to get to the top until she lost her footing. The consequence was almost instantaneous, and she began to fall backwards, and she clenched her eyes shut, praying for the cart of hay to be there.

When she didn't feel her spine crack, Gemma risked opening her eyes, and realized that a hand was grasping on to one of her own, restraining her from falling. Ezio looked profusely amused, but wordlessly, and effortlessly, lifted her up onto the roof.

"_Chiudi il becco._" She grumbled under her breath, plopping down onto the uncomfortable tiles of the roof.

"I'm not saying anything," he assured her playfully, sitting beside her, "Just that you're up abnormally early, and that you are, miraculously, in a dress." Gemma rolled her eyes.

"Your sister forced me into it," Gemma explained instead, giving him a suspicious look, "After she attacked me with soap and water."

Ezio gave her a grin that heightened her suspicions, but he changed the subject. "Why are you not sleeping, _cara_?"

"Not tired." She replied quietly, eyes fixated on the sun, which was now a deep shade of orange, and painting the sky around it the same shade. The hills of Tuscany seemed endless, rolling on, one after another, stretching off into oblivion, dotted with a few trees and little houses.

"Gemma," His finger reached her chin, turning it so she has no choice but to look at his face, "I may be gone for a longer period of time than expected. I must figure crucial things out." She can immediately see that he's waiting for an expected reaction from her.

"I see. Well, I hope you find what you need," It's in that moment that she begins to contemplate what she's going to do in her head, how to act when he left, "And say hello to Rosa for me, will you?"

A playful smile tugs on the corners of his lips. "I will make sure of it," Ezio paused thoughtfully, his fingers beginning to trail down her face at an agonizingly slow pace, "Of course, you will be protected. _Zio_ Mario has given his word."

"There is no threat here." She stated. "I grow tired of the fact that you insist on treating me like a child, Ezio."

He groaned, then, his fists clenching against the tiles of the roof. "And _I_ grow tired of the fact that you refuse to understand that these men are _not_ your playmates. Not all of them heed my warning–!"

"And why should they?" Gemma retorted sharply. "You are not their God, and you are not mine."

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, then. "You're blind, aren't you?" In that instant, he was mere inches in front of her face, his eyes raking over her figure. "They do not see you as an equal – quite the contrary. You're an amusing, provocative display to them. A challenge. When I am not here, it's fair game to them."

"Is that why you were so angry?" She found herself asking.

"You _are_ blind," Ezio concluded, his tone a bit darker, "No, Gemma. I am still a man, and I have the same desires they do – I am just _far_ better at hiding it." This bold statement surprised her, as he made no motion to back away. No, he was getting just a bit closer each passing second, as if the wind was pushing him. Gemma had something of a mental freak out. This may be the last time they'd be this close, and what could _one night_ hurt?

He already began a physical onslaught before she could think it out properly, scarred lips hungrily searching for something she apparently had. His arms wrapped around her like iron bars, securing her to him with no chance of escape. She's almost sure at that point that his kiss had left a bruise. It was so impatient, so demanding. Like all this time he'd been keeping everything pent up, and now it was spilling out in an uncontrollable attack. His hands trailed in a feverish frenzy down her sides, fingers aching to bypass the thin fabric separating him from her soft skin.

Just as abruptly as it began, though, it ended all too soon. He broke off, his eyes holding a form of desperation she couldn't fathom.

Ezio quickly avoided the scrutiny of her eyes, looking away, his voice a labored, husky murmur. "You should go back to bed, Gemma." She wordlessly stood to her feet, knowing perfectly well that he was right in this matter. If she was going to not be his liability, then she had to keep her distance. The thought had a strange twisting effect in her heart; he was so warm, so powerful. Gemma mentally scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. As soon as he walked through those gates, he would be a distant memory. It would help them both that way.

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Ezio buried his face in his hands. Damn that woman! He'd just barely been able to rip himself off of her on the roof tops. There was a strange smell to that girl that he'd gotten a good whiff of. It wasn't floral, like most women he'd dealt with in the past. No, it reminded him of cinnamon. A bizarre, bittersweet mixture that only managed to fuel his escalated desire tenfold.

And then there was her eyes. He couldn't hold her gaze for more than three seconds, and he was ashamed of himself. For God's sake, he was an Assassin! He could look his family's murderers in the eyes, and yet not those of a single woman. Maybe Venezia was what he needed. Rosa could distract him easily enough, she was always rather willing to deal with any physical desire he was harboring. The thought relieved him a bit.

Ezio knew the game of lust all too well, though. It was a fickle thing that liked to play around with the hearts and bodies of many. His lust for Gemma would easily be warded off with Rosa, and although he felt slightly guilty, it had to be done. This is how the game was played, as he was an avid player.

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Gemma watched as Ezio sped off on his horse, her fingertips wandering to her forehead, hovering over where his lips had lingered just minutes ago. The warmth was still very much there, and it felt as if it was mocking her. Nonetheless, she goes by her own promise and locked away the juvenile, unhealthy feelings she might have had for that man that was speeding off. Gemma turned on her heel, and set off to go find Demetrio.

She'd already written down a full explanation of what was going on, and was careful to keep it out of Ezio's sight before his departure. She rushed up to Demetrio, surprised by her urgency, and she all but shoved the note into his grip. His eyes roved over it for a few seconds, and then he looked away sheepishly.

"Er … Gemma," he sighed heavily, running a hand through his curled mess of hair, "There is a problem here. I can't read." Her jaw sets in a hard line, and she cursed herself for not considering that – he was a mercenary, there was no literary knowledge necessary in his field of work. She very much wanted to open her mouth and tell him everything but she just _couldn't_. It was as if her body wouldn't allow it. She quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him into Mario's office. He would surely help. He took in the sight of this with a raised eyebrow.

"To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?" The old man asked, his voice curious. Gemma held the note out to him.

"She wants you to read it to me." Demetrio explained with another sigh.

Without a word more, he looked down, and began, "_I wish for you to train me further, for I will no longer serve as a liability. It's not my destiny to be a housewife, I've realized, and so I wish to be disguised as a man, and go to San Gimignano, to become a mercenary or thief or whatever I can manage. Ezio has no room for me in his life, because I serve as a way for his enemies to get to him. No longer will I stand by and take this. So, please, help." _There was a long silence, both men wearing identically grave facial expressions on their faces.

"To be completely honest," Demetrio murmured, grinning a bit, "I have no quarrels with this plan. I have allies in San Gimignano. There's always looking for a fast pair of legs, or a skilled one with the blade."

Mario shook his head. "This is foolhardy, Gemma," he gave her a hard look, "And you are putting your life at direct risk in doing so. If you were ever to be discovered, I cannot say what those kind of men would do to you." Gemma gives him a narrowed-eyed look that the old Assassin immediately understood. After all, he was very much aware she listening in on his conversation with his nephew.

"_Ser_ Mario," Demetrio piped in matter-of-factly, "Gemma is quite right here. It is an almost impossible chance that she could ever get married to someone respectable at this point. All she could ever do would be to sit and depend on a man who comes and goes like the wind. Why not let her breathe some purpose into her life?"

He regarded the both of them with much scrutiny, but finally nodded once. "I see your point. Very well, Gemma. I am doing this because it may benefit you and my nephew. Be warned, because I am going to treat you as you want me to. Like a man. Now then," he gestured to the courtyard, "I am sorry to say this, but you have to cut your hair. Most of it. It makes your face seem to feminine to pass off well."

Gemma hesitated for a brief moment, but nodded, dashing up to her room and grabbing the dagger Ezio had given her. She figured it was high time it was put to good use. Snatching it from its resting place on a nearby desk, she made her way out to the courtyard and got on her knees, holding the sharp weapon to a long strand of hair.

Just as she was about to begin, a rough hand stayed her dagger. "Let me. You'll look lopsided if you do it yourself." Demetrio swiftly removed the blade from her grip. "Are you sure you want to do this, Gemma?" She nodded vigorously. "There's no going back, you know. You will deal with such hardships that you cannot even think of. Best friends will betray you, loved ones will die, enemies will hunt you down like an animal. It is the life of people like me – the _mercenario_, the _ladri_. And most of it, if not all, is for the sake of coins." Something of a morbid smile graced her face when he began to chop her hair off.

She head dealt with most of this, hadn't she? It was simple. She just could not get close to anyone anymore. Once she forgot Ezio, everything else would come naturally. Gemma would be just another man.

"I hope you realize we'll have to change your name," he pointed out, laughing, "Gemma is not exactly a boy's name. Don't worry, though, we'll figure it out when the time comes. Training first, naming later." In that, there was a mutual agreement.

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"You must _trust yourself_!" Mario bellowed, groaning when the girl froze at the edge of a space between two rooftops. He had insisted that she learned how to free run. It was crucial for her survival, because with a sufficient enough speed, she could never be caught. It was far less easier than it sounded, as Mario was determined to make her faster. Much, much faster. "If you fall, you must pick yourself back up and try once more, you must understand this!"

From the sidelines, Gemma saw Demetrio and the other mercenaries laughing heartily at this. She was determined to prove to them that she could pull her own weight, and pushed herself harder. She noticed the people of Monteriggioni staring up at her in both awe and horror._ They think I'm just another new recruit_, she thought to herself in delight. With the combination of the breast bindings and baggy clothing, she passed off as a young boy to those who weren't aware.

Plus, her hair, which had previously fallen to the middle section of her back, now hung in uneven layers around her neck. She took a deep breath, backed up and leapt the space to the other rooftop, taking a moment to steady herself.

"_Bene_, now try the next one!" Feeling quite confident in herself at this point, she sped off without scrutinizing the space she had to jump, misjudged the distance and fell, luckily, into a soft cart of hay.

"I told you this wouldn't work, _Ser_ Mario!" A mercenary called out, laughing along with the others who thought this to be positively comical. Her nostrils flared in determination, and she emerged from cart and hastily brushed off the excess hay. With a sigh, she hoisted herself back on to the roof, and wordlessly leapt buildings, looking back to the group of mercenaries with a smug expression on her face.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – - - – – – – - – – - – - – – – - – - – - – – - – – – –

Ezio dismounted his horse, tying it to the nearby stable and sighing. It'd been what, two months, possibly? He hadn't kept track of time, after all, he got nowhere in his research. Nor in his attempt to play the game of lust correctly. Rosa was more than willing to accommodate him physically, but he found himself picturing Gemma. More than once. He wouldn't be satisfied, he realized, unless he had her. This is why he was disgusted with himself. That, and there was the strangest feeling that he'd betrayed her during the entire fiasco.

He assumed he'd figure it all out soon enough, suited with seeing Gemma and checking on her welfare and whatnot. Strolling into Monteriggioni, he prayed he wouldn't find her in the sparring ring again – she must have heeded his warning, right? Nonetheless, he was content when there was no small, misplaced figure amongst the group of burly men going at it. His Assassin eyes also noted another aspect.

Demetrio wasn't present with the rest of them. He rose an eyebrow in question, but dismissed it, assuming the defiant mercenary was off on business. Ezio casually made his way into the house, examining the white, regal inside of the villa.

"Gemma!" He called. No answer. He checked Claudia's work space – nothing. Then Mario's office – nothing. "Gemma!" He said again, rushing down to the sanctuary, and meeting empty space. Cursing under his breath, and he stormed out on to the court yard and stepped on something soft. He looked down and his eyes widened.

Hair, long strands of hair. Dark brown and a bit burnt from the barrage of sunlight, and he knew it anywhere. His heart plunging, quite literally, into his stomach, he rushed upstairs at the speed at which he dedicated to catching fleeing targets, up the ladder and frantically examining the room. It was tidy, as if a maid had been through it, and his eyes fixated upon a small piece of parchment, folded neatly, addressed to him.

Next to it was a bright piece of red ribbon, wrapped like blood around a dagger. The exact same things he'd given her to keep herself safe. He almost gave himself a paper cut thrusting the parchment open.

_Thank you for everything. I go because there is no choice. I will no longer burden you by being a liability, and I am no longer your responsibility. Forget I existed, it will be better this way. I promise._

_Gemma._

He didn't know how many times he read over the note, his breath and heart rate sky rocketing. A hot wave of fury crashed through him like a tidal wave. This feeling only ever lessened in comparison to when he witnessed his family dying at the hands of a traitor. Clenching the ribbon in his hands fiercely, he stormed downstairs, and found Mario patiently going over something on his desk.

"Ah, _nipote_, you have returned! Pray tell me–!"

"_Where_," his voice was a feral snarl, stressing every word, "_Is – she?"_ Mario's face remained unfazed and he looked mildly curious.

"Who, Ezio?"

He shot his uncle a glare that could have killed ten men in a row. "_Gemma_, uncle, _Gemma!_ She left me a note in her room, saying she has run off, and I _told you to look after her_!"

"I have." His uncle replied coolly. "And you had best not talk to me in such a way, or I won't be answering any of your questions."

Every curse word in the Italian language bubbled to his lips, but Ezio controlled himself, taking a deep breath. "Tell me where she is, uncle."

"I'm afraid I can't, Ezio." The old man said calmly, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "She has left of her own will."

"Gemma is impulsive, rash, and doesn't think things through! Do you honestly believe she can survive _an hour_ out there by herself?"

"I do. I trained her personally."

Ezio's nostrils flared. "You took _part_ in this?"

Mario sighed. "Do not speak to me as if I have just committed a heinous crime. She asked me, and I obliged."

"And what was her _reasoning_ for this?" Ezio demanded sharply.

"I think you already know."

Ezio slammed his hands on the desk. "Why did you not discourage her? Tell her she was just being foolish – and that she _wasn't_ a liability?"

"I am many things, Ezio," he replied gravely, "But I am not a liar."

"_Zio_ Mario–!"

It was his uncle's turn to give him a glare. "Have you forgotten one of tenants of our Creed? _Never comprise the Brotherhood_. Are you so willing to make yourself vulnerable for the sake of_ one_ woman? An Assassin who allows himself to love is an Assassin who makes himself open to his enemies. She recognized this, and left, I could do nothing to stop her. Be thankful for the sacrifice she made – something most women would never have given up." Despite how much he wanted to argue against this, Ezio knew the old man was right. In due time, she would have expected much more out of him, and his lifestyle wouldn't have accommodated that.

Still, he feared the worst, and couldn't muffle the immense, bitter feeling he had in his heart. If only he'd at least told her goodbye …

Something, however, crossed his mind. "Where is Demetrio?"

Mario sighed. "Someone had to make sure she got to where she was going safely."

Ezio's teeth clenched together, the green monster from before showing itself and making a nest in his brain. He attempted to stab it with logic, though. Surely Gemma wouldn't do anything stupid, she was a smart girl. He groaned, wordlessly storming out of the villa and scaling the wall to the rooftops, looking out to the moon high in the sky, giving the land ahead a certain lighting to it.

It was then he looked up and asked the Universe a single favor. One, solitary thing out of everything he'd been forced to do in his life.

"Keep her alive. Please." At least, until their paths crossed again.

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**A/N: This was delayed for many reasons. It's mostly because I'm anxious for the school year, and to see where this summer goes. Well, nonetheless, I'm looking forward to your feedback on this! I hope you enjoyed, and will stay linked. :]**


	14. Luce

The Confidant

Chapter 14: Luce

There was a soft tapping, just above the heads of some unsuspecting citizens. The Tuscan sun has been beating down on their heads, so they don't notice, nor do they care. It was a normal occurrence to see the thieves out and about, especially with the rising imbalance in the city. Corruption was spreading like a wild fire through San Gimignano – but the thieves, especially _Il Lupo's_ men, found this to be an opportunity. Especially to give their new recruits some decent training.

"Hey! _Venite qui_, _ragazzi_, I have a task for the lot of you!" One of the higher ranking thieves, Cesare, beckoned forth a small group of four boys, each between the ages of seventeen and eighteen, and each close friends. They stood in a clump, roughly ranging from tallest to shortest; Dario, Drago, Elario, and Remus. "Alright you_ bastardi_, do you see that fat woman over there?" Cesare pointed forward to a rather hefty woman standing a few meters ahead, her derriere consuming most of their vision.

"How could you not?" Drago commented, snickering and running a hand through his sandy blond hair.

Cesare rolled his eyes. "Right, well, Il Lupo wants the necklace she has around her neck, it'll fetch a price higher than all of your necks combined. Flirt with her, knock her out, I don't care as long as you do it and you do it quietly, _capisce?"_

_ "Capisco_." All but one replied robotically.

"Remember, if the guards get a hold of you, they _will_ beat you and possibly kill you, it's all depending on their mood," Cesare warned them, his brown eyes very grave, even more so with the dark circles under his eyes, "so, do with this information what you will. Don't take too long." With that said, he turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd. The boys exchanged quick looks, and wordlessly leapt onto a nearby crate, and onto the roof of a house.

"I bet Cesare is making this up," Drago sneered as they began to follow the woman, "what would Il Lupo want with a damn necklace?"

"We have to train somehow, right?" Dario suggested lithely, "Besides, we cannot refuse an order from our superiors." Drago made a scoffing sound, rolling his hazel eyes.

"Will you stop complaining already? _Cristo_, how do you expect to rise up in the ranks with that mouth of yours, Drago?" Elario remarked, rather annoyed with the boy's antics at this point.

"It's this mouth of mine that has gotten me where I am." The novice thief replied smugly, smirking. "Besides, if things keep as they are, Il Lupo is going to make me _his_ apprentice." It was customary in the thieves'' guild of San Gimignano that the leader soon chose an apprentice, in order to take his place when he was ready. It was rumored that Il Lupo was deciding on a novice, rather than one of his right hand men.

Elario made an annoyed sound with his teeth. "Oh, _sí, _and I'm engaged to Caterina Sforza – Il Lupo isn't insane, I don't think he's choosing you."

"Don't be a jealous _stronzo_, Elario." A broad smirk stretched across Drago's lips.

"Sorry to interrupt your argument, ladies," Dario interjected rather impatiently, "but don't we have a task? You can bitch at each other later." They glared at the brunette, but silently agreed with a nod, shifting their attention back to the grossly overfed noble woman.

"I _could_ exhibit my impeccable charm." Drago pitched in, waggling his eyebrows. "We'd have it in no time."

"Or scare the woman off for good." Elario grunted, eyes fixated on the large emerald pendant hanging around her neck, and his eyes widened just a bit. It _did_ look extremely expensive. It had to be the size of about half his fist, embedded with gold and hanging by a golden chain.

"_Merda_," Dario cursed, his eyes narrowing, "there are guards everywhere. Someone needs to distract them." The thieves paused, contemplating this. "Who's the fastest?"

"Remus." Elario answered immediately, shifting his gaze to the green-eyed one that hadn't spoken a word to him since they'd met. "You're the fastest – this is what _you_ need to do." Remus' eyes narrowed, shifting to the scene and scrutinizing if this could be done.

Drago scoffed under his breath. "Remus isn't the _fastest_ …"

They easily ignored him, and Dario put his hand on Remus' shoulder. "Prove to us that you are as your name promises – swift." Remus nodded once, leaping off of the edge of the rooftop and landing silently onto the ground that sat below.

- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Remus examined the guards that kept making their rounds precariously close to the target at hand. They looked mediocre enough to the thief, so it would be simple to outrun them. That is to say, most of them. One of the guards wore much less armor than the others, a short blade in his left hand. Remus made an annoyed click, eyes narrowing. A troublesome guard was just what the thief needed. Deciding that there was no other choice, Remus dashed forward, ramming an elbow into the troublesome guard's stomach.

"You little shit!" The heavily armored guard with a spear snarled, readying himself for battle. The novice took off, pacing herself so that she didn't waste too much energy during the chase. Remus ran a beeline down the street, not daring to look back and listening to the sound of the guards bellowing and cursing at the top of their lungs. Despite the situation, she stifled a laugh at their futile attempts. There were only a few people she knew of that could keep up with her; Il Lupo, Demetrio if he was really trying, and Ezio.

The thought of him after so long warmed her cheeks, but she shook her head, risking a glance backward and realizing she had bigger problems to deal with. _Well, that's another one to the list_, she thought bitterly, green eyes fixating upon the agile guard that was racing towards her with a furious vengeance in his eyes. Remus sped up, shoving past the citizens of San Gimignano as best as possible. Months seemed like years ago, and she could still remember everything and everyone vividly. Including Ezio – but the reality of the situation was that he probably remembered nothing of her. Not with people like Rosa and Cristina, so in an essence, he was glad to be rid of her. He probably sighed with acute relief when he discovered she was gone, and had read the note. And yet, she felt nothing.

"You can't run from me forever, _figlio d'une cane!_" The guard cried angrily, attempting to weave his way through the sea of people. Seeing this as an opportunity, Remus managed to reach into the pockets of at least five different people, swiping their wallets as she bumped into them. She closed her fist around the coin purses, and smugly wove through the crowd. She was distracted enough to not notice the hard surface she soon rammed into.

"Reckless as ever, I see." Remus looked up in relief, meeting the amused eyes of her favorite mercenary. He reached backward, grabbing on to the hilt of his battle ax and brandishing it in front of his chest. Demetrio looked ahead to the guards, smirking. "Thief business catching up to you, _Remus_?" She rolled her eyes, and the mercenary chuckled, dashing ahead and taking care of the guards with relative ease. Remus watched him with slightly widened eyes. Sure, she could run fast and dodge properly – but her fighting skills were minimal. She just didn't have the physical strength to take on fully grown men, and it annoyed her. It was one of the reasons she had no choice but to become a thief – a mercenary's work was not something she could do without easily revealing herself.

And so, Demetrio introduced her to Il Lupo a month ago and she became one of the members of the thieves guild, and found herself to be more at home with them.

"Demetrio Continzo," a calm, familiar voice rang out, "I would like it if you did not interfere with my novice's battles. He will never be strong if others learn his lessons for him." It was then that Il Lupo leapt down to the ground, his eyes standing out drastically, even with his gray hood. Partly because his left eye was a shade of olive green, and his right eye was a piercing, icy blue.

"Come now, Lupo, he is only eighteen and I could not just–!"

"I was thirteen when I fought off the guards on my own." Il Lupo interjected coolly. "You must allow him to be a man, and take the hits of one. Interfere in his battles again and I will not take it lightly, even if you both are close."

Demetrio held up in his hands in an amused display of defeat. "Consider it done, Lupo."

He nodded his thanks, shifting his icy gaze to his novice. "Remus, do you not have a task to attend to? Your companions have, unfortunately, been taking their sweet time. I suggest you go take care of it." Silently cursing under her breath and shoving the coin purses into her pocket, Remus bowed her head and dashed off to deal with her companions.

Surely enough, the plump woman was still patiently looking over food in the market. Remus looked up to the rooftops and gave them a narrow eyed glare. Dario, seeing this, shrugged sheepishly and silently gave an accusatory finger to the two bickering behind him. Rolling her eyes, Remus realized that she had to deal with this on her own. She strolled forward, 'accidentally' bumping into one of the guards, making sure it wasn't one from before, and cried out, falling to the ground and clutching her knee in mock agony.

"Wh – What?" The guard cried, confused as ever.

"How cruel!" The woman bellowed, kneeling beside Remus with a pitying expression. "You poor little _ragazzo_, I always_ knew_ these guards were corrupt – but to harm an innocent boy!" Remus looked up at the woman with possibly the most innocent expression known to man.

"He – He's lying!" The man insisted. "I did _not_–!"

"Do not lie to me, you _bastardo_!" She pointed a plump finger at the man. "What motivation could he possibly have for pretending to be harmed? You should be arrested!"

"_Me_? You are overstepping your boundaries by far, _grassone puttana!_ Remember who it is you are speaking with, and who can easily arrest _you_ for disturbing the peace?"

The woman smirked, then. "Could you really arrest the leader of the city guard's wife?" The guard stepped back in pure terror, and Remus could immediately recognize his low rank. It also amused her very much that he looked like he'd just taken an arrow to the jewels.

"_S – Ser_ Domenico's wife?" She nodded smugly. "Oh – _mi dispiace veramente, signora – _if I had only known–!"

"And if you did not? You would treat me rudely all the same. I will make sure to speak to my husband about such behavior!" The guard made a horrified face, bowing his head in reverence and taking off. The woman let out a chortle to herself.

"Are you alright, boy?" She asked, then, looking down at her. Remus nodded once, and she smiled. The woman wasn't all _that_ fat, it seemed to Remus, with bright brown eyes and light brown hair. "Such fools, these guards are. They'd believe anything – like I'd ever let myself get married to the captain of this shitty guard! The mere thought makes me want to lose my lunch!" The thief bit back a laugh, deciding that she liked this woman. It made it all the more difficult to having to steal from her.

Remus looked up to the rooftops, and the other thieves were looking at the scene with tense anticipation. Drago gave her an impatient look, gesturing that the thief needed to hurry the hell up. "Your friends are up there waiting for you to steal my necklace, aren't they?" Remus snapped her gaze up to the large woman, her eyes wide. She laughed. "You were not exactly the pinnacle of stealth, especially to one as experienced as me. Besides, I heard you all bickering up there." Remus groaned under her breath, making a note of whacking Drago and Elario on the heads later.

"Since I am in a giving mood this afternoon," the woman murmured, grinning as Remus' eyes widened in absolute disbelief, "I will give you the necklace, but on one condition. You, my little friend, are going to be my messenger and gatherer of intelligence until I say otherwise." Her eyebrows raised. "I am involved in quite the business, my dear, and I need a swift pair of legs to carry everything out. I have no children, and my girls are far too busy with their own business to take care of mine. Besides, I can tell you're a cunning one, the way you faked such an injury."

Smirking, she shifted her tone to something much more obviously louder. "Oh, you poor child! Allow me to comfort you!" She threw her arms around Remus. "Go on, take it, I'm not being dramatic for nothing." Pretending to look sufficiently clever, Remus reached behind the woman's neck and quietly unhooked the chain, instantly tucking it into her pocket. "Now, run and brag to your friends – tomorrow morning, one of my girls will find you and bring you to me." Remus shoved herself free, leaping onto the roof's edge and pulling herself up onto the top, and meeting the shocked expressions of the other novices.

"Well, that was certainly bold of you." Dario commented, grinning and giving her a hearty pat on the back. "Your unpredictable behavior never ceases to amaze me, Remus."

"What did she even _tell_ you after all that time?" Drago piped in, honestly curious. "So it is true the fat ones prattle on for hours about their lives? You're lucky you made it out alive."

"I have half a mind to say she's attracted to you, Remus." Elario suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows. Remus resisted the urge to stick out her tongue in disgust.

Drago audibly scoffed, smirking playfully. "Who would want a man with the eyes of a woman?"

"I've often been told that the silent types are what attract woman these days," Dario remarked nonchalantly, snickering, "the woman probably thought Remus to be mysterious, and therefore trusted him."

"Mysterious, my ass!" Drago said. "How does one properly woo a woman if he cannot even _speak_?"

"It's all in the eyes, they say." Elario said. "And Remus certainly has mysterious eyes."

"Like I said, the eyes of a woman, there's nothing mysterious about it." Remus rolled her eyes, standing to her feet and turning in the direction of the guild. Drago was perceptive, she could assume that much, but his arrogance clouded that sense of his. A shame. The others caught up with her, and the distinct jingle of coin purses could be heard coming from Remus' pocket.

"Did you take a detour during the distraction?" Dario asked, raising his eyebrow. She replied with a broad smirk, but made no move to nod. "You crafty _bastardo_ – what do you plan on doing with all that money?"

"Feeding his new lover." Drago answered matter-of-factly. "All of the food in _Toscana_ wouldn't satisfy her – I suggest you start saving up, Remus." The thief threw her head back and laughed at that.

"Let me see the necklace." Elario murmured, watching as she reached into her pocket and pulled the jewelry out.

"_Dio mio_," Drago commented, hazel eyes wide and incredulous, "Cesare was right about it being worth more than our necks." Remus shrugged, tucking it back into her pocket. The journey back was fairly the same as usual – Elario and Drago argued like an old married couple for most of it, and about the most needless things. Including, of course, who was going to be Il Lupo's apprentice. She tried her best to ignore it, really not caring about any of it. When they stood outside of Il Lupo's quarters in the guild, Dario managed to convince the other two that this was Remus' victory; he should be getting the glory.

"Remus? I take it you come with successful news." She nodded once, then taking sight of the hooded figure in black standing in front of the desk. Her heart skipped a few beats, clenching in horror when the man turned around, and she met the blue-gray eyes of one she'd thought she'd never see again.

"A new recruit, Lupo?" Alessio murmured, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. Remus masked the look of terror that was threatening to show on her face with a semblance of calm. By the gods, if he recognized her, her cover would be blown, and from then on … she wasn't sure what would happen.

"A promising one, at that." Lupo pointed out casually. "I take it you have the necklace on you right now?" Remus nodded once, reaching into her pocket and placing the jewelry into the master thief's outstretched hand.

Alessio's eyebrows rose when he saw it, but chose to address something else. "Not much of a talker, is he?"

"Hasn't said a word since he joined us," the thief master explained with a shrug, "I see no problem with it – our work entails stealth and silence, after all."

"True enough," Alessio murmured, taking a step toward Remus with shrewd eyes, "you remind me of someone, actually." Remus' hands clenched at her sides, but she had to make sure she didn't let her look of confusion waver. This man, as her former best friend, was sharp enough to catch on very quickly.

"You may leave now, Remus." Il Lupo dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and she nodded once, turning on her heel and silently exiting the room. Curiosity trampled over common sense, then. Slowly, Remus placed her ear on the wooden door and listened – what in the world could Alessio be doing with the leader of the San Gimignano thieves guild?

"Remus," A frighteningly calm voice called out from inside room, making her jump back in shock, "I suggest you control your curiosity, it may very well get you killed one day." Heart pounding a bit erratically from shock, she turned on her heel and retreated down the long wooden hallway. Remus descended the rickety staircase and was out the door, meeting the curious expressions of her friends.

"So?" Drago prodded. "Was he satisfied with the necklace?" Remus shrugged, her thoughts buzzing, contemplating what kind of business Alessio_ Esposito_ could have with Il Lupo. Either way, she couldn't dwell on it for all that long, because Elario casually put his arm around Remus' shoulder.

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Y'know what I found out while you were inside?" Remus waited with a raised eyebrow. "That lady you stole from? She's the new madam at the nearby brothel – the old one just died of old age, so, in an essence, you can get us more women than anyone else!"

Remus made a scoffing sound with her teeth, and Dario basically spoke what she was thinking. "Are you really going to use him to get courtesans?"

"Why not?" Elario said, grinning impishly. "She's sure to recall you – and besides, if I remember correctly," he patted Remus' pocket, which jingled from the many coin purses that occupied the space, "you had quite the pay day, and don't you think we need some relaxation?"

"I'm game." Drago remarked immediately, a smirk stretched across his mildly tanned face.

Dario rolled his eyes. "Remus, don't listen to them – it's your money." Remus always knew she liked Dario. Possibly one of the calmest thieves she had ever associated with, he only caused mischief or trouble when absolutely necessary, such as when he's under direct orders from Il Lupo or another superior. His appearance went almost perfectly with his demeanor - medium, straight brown hair he kept short, a light olive complexion, and light honey eyes.

Drago and Elario were opposite from this. Both of them were fair-skinned, with different shades of blond hair, Drago lighter than Elario, who was more of a dirty blond. Also, Drago had a long scar running up from the side of his jaw and ending in a curve on his cheek. The subject of where he got it never really came up. Their evident selfishness and perverse attitudes was one of the reasons they fought so often. Remus noticed their 'team' had a good enough balance. Half of them were relatively calm and had a good deal of common sense, and the other was impulsive, rash and arrogant. They were, in an essence, all each other had.

"Oh, stop being a buzz kill." Elario sneered. "What, do you not _like_ women?"

"I'm not saying that," Dario responded coolly, "I just like the ones who haven't bedded the entire city – you know, when I _know_ where they've been."

Drago rolled his eyes. "You're a thief, Dario. Not a single one of the pure women you seek will give you the time of day. It's all about social standing to those kind of people, and you know it."

"What of the less wealthy ones?" He countered instead. "I know of some very kind girls who aren't big on social standing."

"They aren't." Drago agreed darkly. "But their parents are. They would bar you from her so quickly; you could not even blink before she disappeared. Besides, those families are social climbers – if their child was associating with a thief, what would that say to the high society?" Remus' eyebrows tented together at the reality of this explanation. It was one of the few times Drago was being entirely serious, and they all knew it was the truth. She understood this completely because her family was the social climbing type. She envied the thieves' freedom as a child, but never so much as looked at them for too long, because her mother had told her they'd steal her away and she'd never be seen again.

She found it ironic that it was an Assassin that accomplished this feat, and she'd very nearly fallen for him.

Dario sighed. "I simply do not trust the courtesans as I would a normal girl."

"They're decent, too," Elario pointed out matter-of-factly, "their lives have just been far more difficult. Most of them didn't choose that life. It was either forced upon them or they had no choice. Do not judge them because of what fate has decided for them."

"I'm not." He deadpanned, looking up to the Tuscan sky, orange as dusk drew nearer. "Is it so horrible that I want something on an emotional level than a physical level?"

"It's not _horrible_," Drago remarked, making a mildly disgusted expression, "it's simply stupid. And rather concerning – what kind of man _are_ you?" Remus herself was actually surprised to hear this. It was only ever Leonardo and Alessio that didn't openly show interest in the external aspects of women – she hadn't even heard Leonardo _mention_ a woman in his life, and she'd been living with him for quite some time. Though she suspected that something else was the cause of this, but with Leonardo, it was hard to tell. Remus realized then that she really did miss the artist, but that was a thought for another time.

Dario didn't reply, a pensive expression embedded in his gentle features. Remus walked up to stand beside him then, putting a hand on his shoulder and nodding once, symbolizing she was with him on this opinion. A small smile tugged on the corners of his lips, and he returned the sentiment.

"Thank you, brother." Remus really did like the brotherhood between the four of them. It wasn't like the high society of Firenze – there was no needless backstabbing and two-faced relationships. With women, as well. It could get too complicated in terms of women – one wrong word, and they'd refuse to speak to a best friend for days, even months. It was one of the reasons that she found herself more at home with the company of men. The decent ones, at least.

"Come to think of it," Elario then decided to lighten the conversation and change the subject, "I have never once seen Remus stare at a particularly attractive woman." They gave her a scrutinizing look, eyebrows raised, blatantly questioning her reasoning. Her eyes widened. _Think – quickly!_ She commanded herself, and Remus' mind began to scramble for an excuse.

Dario, thankfully, came to her rescue. "I assume it's the same reason I don't." She nodded almost too quickly, and in a way, it _was_. She was _awkward_ when it came to physical intimacy of any kind. Especially with a certain man she'd dealt with for over a year. Remus supposed that it had something to do with her age – but he'd always 'led the way' in an essence, when it came to things like that. And it always left her unable to process coherent thought and flustered – but she never let it show. Inflating his ego was not something she felt the need to do. He was always patient, though, and gentle enough to–

Remus furiously shook her head, metaphorically torching such thoughts from her mind. Now was not a time to stroll down memory lane. The others seemed to notice her mental struggle, and were staring at her if she'd just done a complete dance routine in the middle of the street.

"You're so strange." Drago commented, shaking his head and laughing. "Seriously, Remus. You're about the most abnormal man I've ever met." At this, she grinned, winking cheekily at him. Being strange was what Remus specialized in.

"It's better he's strange than to be like the novice _idioti_ I've seen in the guild." Elario pointed out, patting Remus reassuringly on the back. "All they talk about is _puttane_ and how much their lives are terrible. All the moping gives me a goddamn headache. Remus doesn't sulk, and he's loyal to us. He is more of my brother than my _own_ brother." Elario's brother was a mercenary alongside Demetrio, she remembered his name being Gerardo, and was the type to think with his muscles. That is to say, not think at all. He barely acknowledged his little brother, ashamed of the fact that he chose a life that meant to hide and run, rather than 'fighting like a man'.

Remus thought it to be utter bullshit, and so did the other two. A thief's work was a bit more complicated, as they could _not_ be seen by their victims. They had to have stealth, speed, cunning, and endurance. Strength as well, but not as much, and this was why Remus found it easier to become a thief, rather than a mercenary, where she would've stood out horribly. As they apparently weren't going to the brothel, much to her relief, the four of them adjourned to the small corner in the outskirts of San Gimignano that they called home. The guild didn't provide any form of housing for its members – Il Lupo expressly said that they needed to figure out where to sleep on their own, he wasn't running an inn.

She silently stretched herself out on a dirty old cloth that was her designated bed, and stared at the sky as the stars began to appear. It was then that Remus began to wonder if she was ever going to be Gemma again.

- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

"_Ragazzo_!" A brunette courtesan in a bright red dress appeared before Remus, and the eyes of the thief's companions widened in surprise. "Come, my mistress has a task for you."

"I'll pray for you." Drago called out, laughing alongside Elario and Dario. She rolled her eyes, but silently followed after the prostitute, who led her to a beautifully decorated building, and as she entered the brothel, she was confronted with a rather familiar smell. The portly madam from before, donned in a bright red gown that showed off quite a bit of cleavage, trotted up, her round face calmly content

"Good morning, boy." She said, smiling and gesturing to a small table where there sat a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink. "Since you do not seem to talk, at least write down your name for me." Remus obeyed, smiling to herself at the sheer sharpness of this woman.

_Ge _– she paused, furiously scratching out the first two letters – _Remus_.

"Remus … an old name. Unique. I like it. Well then, Remus," she gestured to herself, "I am known as Valeria. Your task for me today is simple. I had a few paintings done by a renowned artist, to make my _bordello_ a bit prettier, and the paintings are too heavy for me to carry all by myself. You will accompany me to his workshop." Valeria wasted no time in strolling out the door as soon as she was done explaining, and Remus trailed after her.

"Your appearance is a bit off for a boy, you know," she pointed out casually, making Remus' hand twitch out of nervousness, "your eyes are more fit for a woman – count your blessings. No one will suspect you're up to no good _too_ quickly with those eyes." She laughed at her own observation. "You're a bit scrawny too, come to think of it."

"Oh, don't give me that look." Valeria said, giggling and mussing the top of her head. "You're young, you still have growing to do!" Remus laughed quietly, knowing that really wasn't the case. Nonetheless, they reached the artist's house, and Valeria knocked on the door. It was a fairly small workshop, actually. The door soon opened, and Remus' breath caught in her throat.

"_Signora_ Valeria! How nice to see you!" Leonardo da Vinci exclaimed, happily kissing her on both cheeks. "I have the paintings right inside, I will get them for you."

"Remus, go on and help the man." She kept her head down and her eyes glued to the floor as she silently trailed into the workshop, noting its lack of the same clutter and spontaneous projects as his Venetian house had.

Suddenly, a hand presented itself in her face. "Remus, is it? My name is Leonardo, it is nice to meet you." Out of impulse, she met the kind blue eyes of her old best friend, and his facial expression froze in shock. He quickly collected himself, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. "Forgive me for that, you look terribly familiar, is all, almost … scarily so." Remus smiled nervously, scooping the heavy box of paintings into her arms, thanking her lucky stars that he didn't recognize her.

"Remus, come, I am a busy woman!" Valeria called from the doorway, and she risked a quick glance back at the artist before retreating to the exit. It didn't last all that long, because soon she heard him fluttering off to do what he did best. A tiny part of the thief wanted to turn around and hug the living daylights out of him – but she was content with at least seeing him after all this time. "The look on your face tells me you know Leonardo."

Remus quickly shook her head. Valeria's eyebrow rose, but she left it at that, instead then explaining that she wouldn't be needing Remus' assistance everyday, but on spontaneous occasions. The madam then warned the thief that whatever the terms and whatever the circumstance, she had to accept them.

- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

"Remus," Drago's impatient voice rang out, rousing her from her uncomfortable slumber, "wake the hell up! Il Lupo wants to see you." This caught her attention, and she slowly rose to her feet, stretching her arms into the air.

"I wonder what he wants." Elario mused from his corner of the room, his voice tired.

"Hell if I know," Drago replied, his voice irritable, "now go before he gets impatient."

"Why the attitude, Drago?" Dario called out, his voice profusely amused. "Afraid Remus will be asked to be his apprentice?"

His pale face grew a bit red, and he scowled. "That _isn't_ happening, goddammit. Besides, he does not speak, how can he lead us?"

"I'd teach him to speak again, if he wanted it." Dario offered calmly, shifting his gaze to Remus. "Now go, do not keep him waiting." She nodded quickly, exiting the area and making it out into the gray, cloudy morning, turning in the direction of the thief tower, wondering what Il Lupo wanted. In this speculation, she also began to wonder what his actual name was – Il Lupo was a title given to each thief leader of San Gimignano. Only those extremely close to that person were then allowed to call them by their given names. It was a fascinating tradition.

Remus reached her destination in no time, ascending the stairs to his office, knocked on the old door and waited. A quiet voice granted her entrance, and she quietly obeyed, taking in the sight of Il Lupo's mismatched eyes leering at her. She also noticed the fact that his hood was down, and noted his fair skin, young face, and brown hair that seemed black in the dull lighting. Il Lupo's face was one she thought more appropriate to be on a prince than a thief master, as his face was elegant and beautiful.

"I'm glad you're here," he said lithely, taking a few steps forward so he stood in front of his desk, rather than behind, "I'd actually like you to clear something up for me." She waited anxiously, her mind beginning to race. "That man I was with yesterday … his name was Alessio, and he seemed to be acquainted with you." _Merda_, Remus thought, but knew it was better to vehemently deny it until he had stated enough evidence than simply giving it all away with a single look.

"He told me strange things," Lupo continued on, "stranger than usual, as I am involved in a strange business. You may already know of it – the ongoing, secret struggle of the Templars and Assassins. If what I have been told is correct, you were in the middle of all of it while in Venezia not too long ago." Remus gave him a clueless look, tilting her head in ignorance. He laughed, taking casual steps forward. "I do not know who to trust, you see. You, my talented novice, or him, a fellow Templar. And since I am a man who is not inclined to trust many, I have decided to take matters into my own hands. Thus, I am going to ask you a simple question, and I require an honest answer. Are you a woman, Remus?"

She shook her head, putting on the expression of one who is offended, rather than terrified. "He tells me otherwise," in that instant, the master thief appeared directly in front of her, "do not begrudge me this, Remus – I see no other alternative." Then, he grabbed the cloth of her dirty green tunic, ripping it in clean halves, revealing the breast bindings underneath. She wasted no time in shoving herself free of him, her hand instinctively going for the dagger she had at her side.

He had it in his hand, and she cursed under her breath. "Such a pity. You were so skilled for one so young." The office was too high up for her to escape without killing herself, and the door seemed like it was definitely out. "Do not give me the look of a trapped animal, Remus – ah – or, would you prefer being called Gemma?" She viciously glared at him, unable to predict his movements. "Now, there are roughly … two choices you can make – one; you can tell me all that you know about Ezio Auditore and his current movements, in which case I will not mention a single sliver of your true self to a soul, or two; you can refuse the first offer, and I will reveal your identity to the entirety of this guild, and leave you to their mercy."

"Come, Gemma, would you rather give up your entire life to preserve the safety of the man that did not even love you enough to chase after you?" Green eyes widened, and she met his eyes. "Oh, I _know_ that is the case here. You ran from him in order to 'protect' him, so that his enemies would not seek you out as a weakness. Do not think you are the first to do this," Lupo's eyes grew dark, then, and malicious, "my fiancée not too long ago did the same thing, before I became a thief. Her name was Lucrezia. She was a brave woman, just as you are, and ran from me in fear of her direct involvement in my life. I, unlike your Assassin, loved her enough to give chase almost immediately. I searched as if the hounds of hell were upon my heels."

"I found her a week or so later," he said, and it was almost silently, "raped, mutilated and trashed in the hills of _Milano. _And so I ask you, what would Ezio Auditore do if he saw you in such a state?" She did not have an answer to that question, and they both knew it. "Exactly. So think wisely. Consider your choices carefully." Her eyes shut, and her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She _did_ think, and she _did_ consider. It was extremely frustrating. She was not about to compromise the core reason she became a thief, however. It was to keep him safe, and she was fully prepared in never seeing him again, if meant protecting both him and her country in general.

As her answer, she raised her fist and slapped her bicep on the same arm, giving him the most defiant look she could muster. Il Lupo sighed. "_Alea iacta est_. You're foolish, but I admire your spirit." The thief master strode up to her, effortlessly ripping apart her breast bindings and shoving her backward into the chamber behind them. Losing her balance when she stumbled backward, she fell, and a large bed cushioned her fall. "Perhaps a little physical persuasion ought to make you reconsider." Within seconds, he was tearing at her clothes, cold, smooth hands running up her bare skin and breasts.

A feeling of disgust and fury washed through her. Her mind was crying out, screaming that only the devastatingly warm hands, rough from hard work, she knew all too well were allowed to do such a thing. A brief command, said in his voice, whispered something in her mind. _Catch him off guard, let him think he's winning, cara._ And so she did, not uttering a single cry of pain or lust, keeping her face as neutral as possible as Il Lupo's hand began to wander south, to dangerous territory. He noticed, and she could see slight lines of frustration on his face, and his assault got more powerful. Emerald eyes soon came upon a dagger sitting at a bedside table. She wasted no time, reaching out as far as she could, her fingers brushing the hilt of it. Finally, her hand got a hold of it.

"Could you really?" Il Lupo whispered, forcing her to look at him. "Could you kill me, Gemma?" The hysteria in her mind whispered she _couldn't, _but she did not come all this way to be a vulnerable child. There was no Ezio to save her – and so she had to save herself. With that established, she raised the dagger and buried it in the back of his neck, her bottom lip quivering slightly as Il Lupo's blood splashed on her hand and face.

Remus stood up, then, leaning against the wall and clutching her half naked body as it trembled and shook like a wet kitten. She didn't cry, though, and was only disturbed.

As just as she was about to deal the blow, she heard him whisper a thank you.

- – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

**A/N: Damn. This just kinda … flooded out. Like a tidal wave of words, in a way. I almost feel as if it might be a bit too long, but at the same time, all of it was necessary. XD Let's hope it wasn't for nothing – I hope you enjoyed and will stay linked for the next chapter. Reviews of what you think will be greatly appreciated.**

_**Alea iacta est:**_** The die has been cast – a Latin phrase meaning roughly meaning fate has been decided.**

_**Grassone puttana:**_** Fat whore.**


	15. Assassino

The Confidant

Chapter 15: Assassino

_**Two Years Later**_

The sun was high in the sky when Ezio reached San Gimignano. He was rather weary from travel, but he knew he could not rest until the task at hand was complete. This city was a valuable asset to have in the Order, and now that the thieves had a new leader, one who was not a Templar, they could finally have San Gimignano and her resources on their side. Ezio was quite confident of his persuasive abilities, and he also was betting that this man probably had no good relations with the nobles, making it that much easier.

He leapt onto a rooftop, eyes shifting to a small group of adolescent thieves. "_Ragazzi_, I need you to do me a favor."

"What's in it for us?" One of them sneered, standing to his feet. Without even hesitating, Ezio reached into one of his many pockets and handed him a handful of coins. He smirked. "How may we be of service?"

"I am looking for your leader," he explained, raising an eyebrow, "one by the name of Il Lupo. Can you take me to him?"

They exchanged glances of suspicion. "What business do you have with him?"

"Urgent business." Ezio answered simply. "Do not fear, I mean him no harm."

The thieves snorted, rolling their eyes. "Do not underestimate Il Lupo," one of them said, "he is one of the most talented leaders we have had in a long time. He scares the hell out of me, too."

"Does he?" There was no man that frightened Ezio. "Well, I'll keep my wits about me." They soon led him to a tall tower, up the stair case and to a large wooden door. One of the thieves slinked in, soon coming out a few seconds later and ushering the Assassin in. He came to the sight of two men standing near an old desk. One was tan with very dark brown hair. He could not make out the face of the other, as a light gray hood covered his eyes left a shadow over his mouth. He assumed this to be Il Lupo.

"Welcome to our city," said the man whose face was visible, "_mi __chiamo_ Dario, Assassin."

"A pleasure." He said, bowing his head, not surprised they knew of him. "And I take it you are Il Lupo, yes?"

"He is." Dario said, and Ezio noticed how very young he looked to be so high ranked among the thieves. "And may I ask what brings you here after you only just arrived?"

How did he not notice thieves keeping tabs on him? "Well, I imagine you're busy men, so I will get to the point." Ezio paused, glancing at Dario. "This information is rather … confidential. Could I perhaps talk to Il Lupo alone?"

"Dario stays." Il Lupo said then, his voice soliciting the strangest pang in Ezio's chest. "If I cannot trust him, I cannot trust anyone."

Ezio hesitated, attempting to examine the thief leader's face in the dim light. No good. "Whether you were aware or not, your previous leader had allegiances to a rather corrupt faction. The Knights Templar, and they are our, the Assassins Order, enemies."

"So what are you getting at?" Dario prodded, leering at him.

"Every leader of the thieves in almost every city in this country of ours is a member of the Order, and I have been told to extend to you this offer, Il Lupo." There was a long pause, and the man walked around from behind the desk, and Ezio could see his mouth was set in a hard line.

"I have no intention of joining this squabble." He responded with icy finality. "And I will not subject my men to a struggle that they are not even involved in. So, unless you have anything else to say, I suggest you leave."

Ezio's hands clenched into fists, but he kept his cool. This was going to be harder than expected. "You do not seem to realize the war that is happening right under your nose, and I can assure you–!"

"Assure me what?" Il Lupo interjected, his voice steel. "That my men can serve as sacrifices for a war that has been raging on for centuries?" He'd heard this voice before … but where?

"Remus," Dario pointed out quietly, "maybe you should let him finish?"

There was a long pause. "The previous Il Lupo died for a reason, Assassin. His role as a Templar drove him mad – besides, the nobles wouldn't dare make a move against me, Templar or not." Ezio focused harder, attempting to pin point where he'd heard this voice _before_ … there was such a bitter, nostalgic sense in his head that he could not shake off. Nonetheless, this man's stubbornness was wearing on his patience. If the Templars persuaded him to once again join their side, he feared the outcome of it.

"Lupo," Ezio insisted, "people die at the hands of this every day, and with your skills, it could take us one step_ further_ to–!" A dagger suddenly came up to his throat, and he met a pair of vicious green eyes, and even in the lack of lighting, he could make out the dominant lines of the thief's face, and that was enough to come to an interesting conclusion.

"You will leave this place," Il Lupo stated quietly, with a voice so toneless a slight shiver ran up his spine, "for I will not join your Order, nor will my men support it with their lives. Go, Ezio Auditore, and do not return here." With that said, Il Lupo turned on his heel.

"Alright, alright," Ezio conceded, raising his hands in defeat, "but could I have three days to get my affairs in order before my departure?"

"Very well." Il Lupo allowed it. "Three days. No more." And with that, Ezio was out the door and down the steps. Three days was all he needed. No man could possibly have such eyes, and such a facial structure, he knew women too well.

It was all he needed to investigate if _Il Lupo_ was _La Lupa_.

– - – – - – - - – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – - - – –

Remus groaned when she reached the sanctity of her own room, burying her face in her hands. God damn it, what was he doing _here_? She thanked the fact that she hadn't seen the man for two years, because her heart only misbehaved just a _bit_. Nonetheless, she knew she had to keep her cool when dealing with him. If he realized that Remus, otherwise known as Il Lupo, was actually Gemma, then she wasn't sure what he'd do.

Although, after so long, would he even do anything upon seeing her again? He probably had a brand new woman in his life, considering how quickly that man worked. He looked so different. There was fresh stubble on his face, and he looked much more threatening. A true Assassin. Remus stood to her feet, in need of some fresh air. She threw a glance at Dario that clearly stated she was leaving, strolled to the balcony and hoisted herself up on the roof.

Remus wasn't exactly sure what'd she do without Dario at this point. When she was named the next Il Lupo mere weeks after the previous one's death, he explained that the men would never listen to her if she couldn't speak, and so he spent many hours every day attempting to get her to at least be able to speak a few sentences. She supposed her body realized that this was necessary for survival, and so she was able to speak when she truly deemed it crucial. In the end, it made her more intimidating to them.

She jogged down a line of buildings, freezing as she felt eyes on her. After so long and gaining so many enemies in the process, she had grown to never truly trust her surroundings. A black shadow was quite boldly watching her from a nearby tower. Her eyes narrowed, and a smirk stretched across her lips, hidden by the shade of her hood. Remus ran a full pelt down the rooftops, jumping down onto the ground below, and sprinting down the street. She almost thought she got away before she saw the same black figure swoop down to the ground straight ahead. He casually waved at her, and despite the distance between them, she could see the arrogant smirk plastered on his face. Her mouth set in a hard line.

She let out a discreet whistle, and a small group of thieves appeared at her side almost instantly. She wordlessly pointed to the Assassin standing north. "Distract him."

"Yes, sir." They parroted, striding off. Remus thanked them with a brief nod and ran a beeline down the street, and as she lifted herself up on the rooftops. She turned to meet the eyes of one of the more tolerant guards on the rooftops. He grinned, saluted her and gestured for her to keep moving. She more than willingly obliged, deciding it'd be best to return to the tower. Remus leapt down into a nearby alley near one of the poorer districts.

"Did you really think you could distract me with mere thieves?" His voice rang out, clear and confident. She did not turn to face him, nor attempt to reply. There was no need. "Such an interesting game you play, Il Lupo." Remus' teeth clenched, but she once again said nothing, attempting to shove herself past him. "Your illusion doesn't work on me, I'm afraid."

Damn. "By that, you mean …?"

He paused, as if to make sure no one was around to hear. "I realize it is difficult for a woman to be in such a position–!"

"You seem to be mistaken, Assassin," she replied, her voice calm as ever as she turned to face, "as I don't remember ever being a woman." Ezio was watching her. She could feel his eyes roving over her body, watching for a reaction that could prove his theory. She would not give it to him.

"You see, in my business, I am not inclined to trust many," Ezio explained lithely, "and so I wish to see what's under the hood, if you please." He didn't give her enough time to answer, because he was suddenly standing in front of her and shoving it down. The reaction was almost instantaneous, and yet he stood there, staring for a long time.

She took a few step backs, fastening her hood back up. "If you dare say a word to anyone, I will personally take you down." Remus sprinted as fast as she possibly could, put all her strength into it, and rued the moment she decided to go outside for a walk.

Instead of going back to headquarters, she decided to retreat to the highest tower in the entire city, always hating the climb up. She had to jump around and shimmy to each corner to find a sufficient route, but she never did regret it as soon as she got a glimpse of the view. The entirety of San Gimignano was visible from this height, and there was a comfortable pile of hay for her to lie on and stare up at the sky, with its ever-changing clouds. Some of her best thinking was done here, and all she had to was avoid when the guards came up here to get some peace and quiet.

She could always hear them coming up, after all. It was up to him, now. What would even happen now? She knew she could not go back with him. Never. Her life had purpose now, she didn't have to just sit around and be called an incompetent, disobedient woman. She was Remus to all except Ezio and Demetrio, whom she had not even seen he went on an extensive mission. She shot to her feet when heard someone scaling the wall, and peeked over the edge.

"Ezio!" The thief snarled. "Leave – I do not wish to see you." He didn't reply, he didn't even look up at her. She realized that he could catch her if she attempted to flee from this height. And so she stood there, waiting until he climbed over the edge and faced her. He was panting, out of breath.

"I am sure my questions will go unanswered," he said quietly, removing his hood and revealing the look in his eyes that quite literally made her take a step back, "all that I wish – no – _demand_ to know is what you're doing in such a position. Do you know how _dangerous_ this is, Gemma?"

"After two years, all you want to do is_ lecture_ me?" She hissed.

"You – are – a – _woman_." He seethed, putting his hands on both of her shoulders and giving her a firm shake, as if to wake her up. "If these men _ever_ figured out that you were–!"

She slapped his hands away. "You are in no position to pretend to be my father, as if you know better than me. Rosa is just as I am, and you tell her nothing."

"Rosa was forced into this life," Ezio snapped, "you were not. You had a choice. A choice to flee to from harm, not to walk straight into it!"

"It's too late now, isn't it?" She pointed out, shrugging and turning on her heel. "I am Il Lupo; I control the entirety of thieves in this city."

"You can come back with me." He said this time, his voice soft. "You can go back to Monteriggioni, and I can protect you, as I have done before." Gemma groaned. She knew he was taking a risk by saying this. What confused her was why he'd say it – his uncle told him how much of a danger she was. The sad thing was, there was a tiny part of her that _wanted_ this. It could never be done, though. Too many things had to be taken care of, she was responsible for too many people. She could never leave San Gimignano.

She shook her head. "No, Ezio. I trained and trained, and I am as capable as any man. Even you. I cannot go back. My decision is final." There was a long, pregnant pause.

"_Se lo tu dici_," he murmured, "but I warn you, I am going to stay here as long as I see fit." She didn't reply, knowing full well that she basically had no say in the matter. Gemma plopped down on the hay, seeing no reason to leave just yet. She didn't waste her time getting up here, after all. He casually sat beside her.

"Remus, eh?" He asked casually. She nodded. "I take it I'm going to have to call you that while we're in public?"

"Il Lupo." She corrected quietly. "Few are allowed to call me by my name, and they are the closest to me. You are a stranger, my men will be offended if you call me Remus and they cannot."

He flinched back a bit as if she'd just slapped him. "I'm a stranger?"

"Yes." She didn't even hesitate. She had to discourage him from attempting to rekindle their old relationship – it would only bring pain. Ezio always loved challenges, too, so this would be difficult. "Where are you going to sleep tonight?"

He shrugged. "I don't care, maybe at a _bordello_."

"Valeria runs the most popular one," It somehow stung Gemma to say this, "I will take you to her, if you wish." She stood up, her insides churning, and yet she tried her best to show nothing of it to him – the quicker he was out of the city, the better.

His next words glued her to the spot. "So you're going to live a lie for the rest of your life?" She turned to meet his eyes. Brown orbs questioned her motives, what possessed her to choose a life of thievery and deceit, rather than that of any normal woman. A small, sad smile stretched across her lips.

"Lies are less painful than the truth." With that, she descended the tower.

- - – – – – – – – – – - – – – – - – – – – – – – – - – – - – – - – - – - - – – - - - - – – - - - - - - - - – - – – – – –

Remus found herself pacing back and forth in her office, teeth clenched and eyes narrowed. Ezio's presence in the city wasn't helping the current situation. There was a new group of mercenaries in the city, presided over by one by the name of Angelo Alfieri. They'd been causing quite a bit of trouble, and even the guards were becoming afraid of them. Or being paid off by them. It was one or the other.

The door suddenly slammed open, and she met the furious hazel eyes of Drago. "Remus – you're needed in the town square, one of Angelo's _bastardi_ just killed one of our novices!" Her hand clenched into a tight fist, and she grabbed the schiavona sitting on her desk.

"Take me there." She deadpanned. He nodded fiercely, dashing off with Remus following swiftly behind, a murderous feeling erupting throughout her senses. Would they truly dare to harm one of her own, and out in public? She dashed ahead of Drago when a crowd was in sight, shoving past the people with ease, and absorbed the scene.

A mercenary of Angelo's stood there. One could tell this because of black angel's wing on each forearm. A vicious smirk flashed on his face when he saw her standing straight ahead of him. "Come to join us, Il Lupo?" She disregarded him, striding forward and examining one of her fallen novices. Celio – he was only sixteen, and had no family. She whispered for him to rest in peace, closed his eyes, and stood to her feet, her hand wandering to the hilt of her schiavona.

"I hope you have a reason for this." She said in a quiet, toneless voice.

He made a scoffing noise. "He did not respect his elder, even went so far as to criticize _Ser_ Angelo's methods. I did what I had a right to do." Quicker than his eye could follow, her hand flashed to her sword and slashed across his chest. The crowd gasped in horror. He fell to the ground, crying out and angrily clutching the blood gushing from his flesh.

She knelt down in front of him, her eyes boring into his with a fierce intensity. "_Pezzo di merda_," her voice didn't reach higher than a whisper, "_hai avuto la fine che meritavi –_ your death will serve as a warning to your _bastardo_ of a leader. I am Il Lupo, if any of you touch my pack, I will unleash the power of my wolves upon all of you. One by one. You shall be our prey."

"Kill me, then." He snarled, his voice shaking. "Your rein as alpha of this city will end – because as soon as that blade meets my skin, the people will be terrified of you. And so they will call for your death."

She smirked. "I will welcome it." Raising the schiavona into the air, she attempted to plunge it into his chest. Her hand was stopped, and she turned to meet the eyes of one she did not wish to see.

"Do not taint yourself with something like this." Ezio murmured. "His death will not bring that boy back." She shot him a fierce glare as he turned to the mercenary. "Go – tell your master what has happened today. Warn him of the blood that will shed if you attempt to cause trouble here again." The injured man wobbled to his feet, hobbling off and cursing under his breath. People began to disperse, seeing as how there wasn't going to be a public execution. Remus stood there, boiling on the inside. Ezio outstretched a hand as if to rest it on her shoulder.

She slapped his hand away, directing the sword to his throat. "Do not touch me, Assassin," Remus snarled, "and if you interfere in my business again, I will kill you as I should've done to him."

Ezio's eyes widened furiously. "You cannot be serious–!"

"Oh, he is." Dario pointed out, motioning to stand in front of Remus, along with Drago and Elario. "I do not take kindly to those who speak to my friend as if he is a child. You are not a member of this pack, so you have no say in what must be done. You do not know the wrath of Il Lupo – he _will_ kill you if necessary."

"And if he doesn't, I will." Drago spat, his eyes narrowing. "Your self-righteous attitude pisses me off, what gives you the _coglioni_ to still Il Lupo's blade?"

Ezio laughed, then. It was malicious and devoid of humor. "Oh, you'd be surprised at what I know of your leader." He looked past her right-hand men, straight into her eyes. He looked as if she had just done upon him a severe form of betrayal. As much as she hated being so cruel to him, there was no other possible choice. He had to leave this city thinking she had forgotten all about him, when it was really quite the contrary.

"Whatever it is, we don't give a shit." Elario sneered. "Come, Remus. We will deal Angelo a crushing blow for this." They began to stride forward toward headquarters, as she passed Ezio, he spoke low enough that only she could hear.

"It seems Gemma has died alongside that boy."

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Remus sat on the edge of her bed, glaring down the floorboards that sat beneath her feet. _I am still Gemma_, she chanted firmly to herself. Ezio was such an infuriating man. She did all of this for _his_ sake, and he's giving her grief for it? She gave up her entire life, her gender, her personal security,_ all_ for him. Why couldn't he see she was doing this for the both of them?

And yet he dared to stand in front of her and question identity? She wanted to scream at him right then and there, to tell him he's being an inconsiderate _stronzo_ who has _no_ idea what he's talking about. She jumped to her feet in frustration, storming around in the room as if to run off her annoyance. A floor board from under her feet creaked loudly. She steps on it again, and it creaks once more.

Her attention sufficiently grabbed, she pulled the wooden piece up, and under it, revealed a set of five different, thin books. With a raise of her eyebrow, she opened one.

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_25 Agosoto_

_ It is upon this day I first laid my eyes upon her. She was dressed as a boy, but I wasn't fooled, not with those eyes. Such a vibrant green. The sort one would find amongst the merchants of the east. Jade, I think they call it. Her father was a merchant, her mother was dead. She was one of the most ill-tempered, stubborn, rash, and impulsive women I have ever met. It is very much the opposite to the fianceé my parents attempted to choose for me. Her name was Alba. She was boring and did whatever I said. I was seventeen when I met the girl, though. She refused to tell me her name for the longest time. She would openly mock and tease my lifestyle. I wanted to be as she was. My parents were outraged when they learned I spent my afternoons with the girl. They attempted to forbid me from seeing her. She was a commoner, not worthy of the Orsini name._

_ I didn't care. I snuck out, I lied, I deceived everyone in my family to continue to be as I was with her. She taught me to scale walls and run across rooftops. Soon I was much faster than her, and flushed cheeks of jealousy were evident on her tanned, beautiful face. Her hair was a chocolate brown that she kept pulled back. She would've passed for a man if it wasn't for the eyes. By the gods, those eyes. I would have stared at them for hours if she didn't threaten to bruise me every time I was caught staring for more than five seconds. It was on the day that she allowed me to stare for a bit longer that I summoned the nerve to kiss her. She whispered her name to me, then._

_ Lucrezia._

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She checked the second to last book at the bottom of the pile, her eyes widening.

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_5 Agosto_

_ A novice has joined our ranks. His name is apparently Remus. He does not speak, nor does he feel the need to. He is the fastest out of all of the younger ones. 'He' is not the correct term. I knew the moment I saw those eyes. They are Lucrezia's eyes. The same green, the same shape. She masquerades as a boy, but I do not feel the need to reveal this to the others. She pulls her weight, she does not cause trouble, this Remus of ours. She is as Lucrezia was. I will not begrudge her this – she must have her reasons for having to do this. Maybe I will learn her true name one day._

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She stared at the parchment in the book bindings for quite awhile, unable to understand this. Il Lupo knew she was a woman all along? Then why … why would he do what he did? She attempted to search through them, as if to find an answer, but impatient knocking at the door jarred her concentration. Remus sighed, tucking the books back into their hiding place and opening the door to her office. One of the newer courtesans, she thinks her name was Allegra, was at the doorway.

"Il Lupo, I am so _sorry_ to interrupt you but," she paused, her eyes narrowing as if to seduce the thief master, "my mistress requires your attention." Remus really hated it when Allegra came to fetch her. It's not that she wasn't a nice girl, or beautiful, but she had a habit of hanging on her like flies to rotting flesh. She nodded nonetheless, strolling out the door and down the hall.

Allegra soon latched on to Remus' arm, pressing her breasts into the thief's limb as if to illicit some form of attention. The level of awkward shot to new levels. "How come you never visit me, eh? Out of all the men in the city, I only ever see your face in the _bordello_ when my mistress needs you!" _There is a reason for that_, Remus replied mentally, but just stuck with shrugging. "Honestly, Lupo, you cannot be so busy you cannot relieve … stress."

Il Lupo sighed. "I have many things I must take care of in the city. I cannot fool around."

"A man in power," she purred, cuddling into Remus' shoulder, "I _love_ that." Remus was very much aware she had to play along in order to keep her 'manliness' intact, but she had _no_ idea how to do so. She wasn't Ezio, nor was flirting the most prominent thing on her mind at the moment. Much to her relief, they finally reached their destination, and she came upon the scene of Valeria discussing something with exactly the person she didn't want to see, many of her girls clinging on to him. A minor tremor of annoyance flashed in her head.

"Honestly, Allegra," Valeria remarked, laughing heartily, "I'm sure I interrupted poor Il Lupo while he was in the middle of business, do not make it look like I'm bribing him." She specifically saw Ezio's eyebrows raise in amused surprise at the sight of this, and he seemed to be biting back a laugh.

"It's alright, Valeria." She replied quietly, slinking out of the courtesan's grasp. "What is it that you require of me?"

"Such an obedient boy." She murmured, glancing at Ezio. "You could afford to learn such manners, Ezio!"

He smirked. "Oh yes, I have no doubt that Il Lupo is the most … obedient out of any of us." Her fists clenched tightly at their sides, but she said nothing, awaiting the request.

"This is the last thing I require of you, once it is done, you are no longer in my debt." Valeria paused, trying to gauche Il Lupo's expression, but realizing it was hard to do so because of the hood. "A group of that _bastardo_ Angelo's men often come in here, use our services, and do not pay. Simply threaten us. You cannot miss them, as they are always together. Four of them, to be exact. I want you to kill them, but quietly, and I know it is not in your line of work to–!"

"Consider it done." Remus deadpanned, turning on her heel.

"_Wait_ a moment," Ezio interjected harshly, "s_ignora_, why did you not ask me? I am sure Il Lupo has _many things_ he must get done and–!"

"It is not that I don't like you, Ezio." Valeria explained lithely. "I trust Remus with this more, simply because he has been efficient in each and every of my tasks for him."

"It is my_ job_ to do such things." Ezio insisted firmly. "And so I will gladly–!"

"What have I said about interfering in my business, Assassin?" Remus snarled. "I have killed before, and I can kill again. _Nessun problema_. And if you follow me, not just four men will die tonight." And with that, Remus silently stalked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

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"Do not take that personally, Ezio." Valeria murmured, commenting on the shocked and furious expression on his face. "Remus is very serious about what he does. Since the day I met him, he spoke up when business needed to be done only. He rarely laughs, and I have not seen him smile once since the day he was given the title of Il Lupo. I imagine that boy had a very strained childhood." To that, Ezio could agree wholeheartedly.

"He hasn't had a single one of us, either." Allegra pointed out, clear disappointment on her face. "A pity, really. Such a mysterious man." The sad thing was, after more than a year with her, he knew about as much of Il Lupo as these courtesans did at this point. It filled him with a bitter feeling, but all he knew was that he had to at least watch over her as she went through with this task.

If she got in trouble, despite the fact that she despised him, he would protect her.

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**A/N: I want to personally thank all my lovely reviewers. Your kind, well-thought out words motivate me to keep trying my absolute best with these chapters, and I'm so glad I'm doing this correctly, as I'd much rather not disappoint the lot of you. Oh, and you guys get awesome points if you can tell me the little pun I have going in the story, having to do with Remus and her position as Il Lupo, which is Italian for The Wolf. ;D I hope you enjoyed and will stay linked for the next chapter! **

_**Hai avuto la fine che meritavi: **_**You met the fate you deserved. **

_**Mi chiamo**_**: My name is …/I am known as …**


	16. Ostinato

The Confidant

Chapter 16: Ostinato

Remus hated killing needlessly. She felt she didn't have much of a right to take a life unless absolutely necessary. With the mercenary, she couldn't see past her rage of such disregard for killing someone, and someone so _young_. He didn't look as it if affected him at all. Nonetheless, she mentally berated herself for letting her rage get the best of her. She couldn't see reason. She cursed her age – control of emotions didn't come naturally at such an annoyingly young year. Il Lupo had a distinct reputation in this city. She couldn't soil two years of carefully shoving her emotions in the back of her head because of one thing.

Death happened every single day, to everyone. Sometimes to all the wrong people, and sometimes there were people, much like Ezio, who had to become the assistants of Death to administer this fate to the _right_ people. To justify wrongs. Was this her job, too? But who were the right people? Could she really be able to tell? She'd killed before, after all. A powerful man. A strange man.

Maybe these men would help her decide.

"What brings the _great_ Il Lupo to us this evening?" A large, burly mercenary slurred, obviously drunk and out of his mind. "Unless you want a … drink, you should get the _hell_ away!" There were three men standing before her, and over six bottles of empty drinks lying on the ground.

"To be visited by Il Lupo at such a late hour?" Slurred another, far skinnier mercenary, chortling at his own humor. "Wolves hunt at such a time, we must have done something wrong."

"Ah, who the hell cares?" The third, a pathetic-looking one with large bags under his eyes and unkempt brown hair. "Nothing we do is right – not with _Ser_ Angelo." She unsheathed her sword, then, noticing how barely any of them moved as she took a step closer.

"Kill us." The burly man barked, lurching upright. "If it's because of that … _puttana_ we didn't pay – I don't have any money in the first place. We needed to relieve some stress – so, please, by _all_ means … kill us! Do us a favor!" Remus found herself at an impasse. These men weren't evil, or wrongdoers in the least, simply pathetic. Simply forsaken by their master. She wasn't sure if she could kill them – but what would Valeria say to something like this?

"The great Il Lupo hesitates?" The thin one exclaimed, cackling drunkenly. "You're not even that scary in person! A bit short for a man of such a reputation, don't you _think_?" Her temper flared mildly.

"What are you waiting for?" The pathetic one demanded hysterically. "Kill us, or are you _Il Cucciolo_ rather than _Il Lupo_?" And so she had to be an assistant, as well. What did these men have to live for, anyway? Skewering her emotions with a metaphorical pitchfork, she lunged forward, stabbing the skinny, pathetic one in the abdomen. He fell to the ground, groaning. She repeated the process with the other two, and they lied there, clutching their wounds, and whispering last minute prayers for some last minute mercy.

"_Raquiescat in pace_." She whispered, leaning against the wall and clenching her eyes shut. Remus felt childish – extremely so. She decided then that she had to save this for when she was back in the tower, because lingering too long would cause too much attention, and a spat with the guards at that moment would have been unnecessarily troublesome.

"I'm impressed." Came his voice – and it wasn't angry, nor dripping with disapproval. Just calm. "I did not think you could kill them so quickly."

"Well, you've been assuming things since you got here." She deadpanned, strolling past him.

"I am … sorry, Lupo." She stopped, turning around in pure surprise. Ezio – apologizing? "I underestimated you. Greatly. You are skilled beyond your years; it was disrespectful of me to question you or your motives." He evaded her gaze, gluing his eyes to the wall.

She could have smiled. "Your eyes tell me this isn't as sincere as I would like."

"No, it isn't." He said, looking her directly in the eyes then. "Because you've changed. Too much for it to be healthy. _Two_ _years_ and I have no idea who you are anymore."

"Didn't you already clarify this with me?" She murmured, looking up to the night sky. "Gemma is dead, is she not?"

There was a long pause, and he took a step closer. "No – she's still in there. She's just hiding. She's good at that."

"What do you want from me, Ezio?" She asked, then, facing him completely, sick and tired of this twisted game they were playing. He couldn't even answer.

"_Hey_! You there!" They looked to see four armored guards. The ones who openly despised Il Lupo and her pack. "I will not tolerate this in my city, Lupo! _Get__ him_!" And so they charged forward. They both silently agreed to split the work, Lupo taking two and Ezio taking the other two. Her shiavona rang against the thin swords of the militia ranked guards that were up against her.

They weren't even wearing armor, and fighting them off seemed simple enough. Ezio wasn't so lucky, as he got two men who were quite formidably armed. She didn't deem it a problem until halfway through her battle, a sickening pounding of a hammer echoed in her ear. Ezio was clutching his shoulder with a murderous look in his eyes when she attempted to look. Her distraction proved costly, because one of the guards slashed his sword down her sleeve, and the other sliced a horizontal gash across her stomach. She cursed under her breath, ignoring the stinging pain.

Another pound – and then another. Finally getting fed up, she sped up her battle, countering both of her attacker's onslaughts with relative ease. Ezio had already taken care of his guards when she attempted to help them, though he looked injured.

"We should get out of here." She said firmly, attempting to run in the opposite direction. Remus quickly realized that he had a bit of a limp in his step as she turned around. "Do you need help?"

"_Nessun problema_," he said through clenched teeth, "_st__ò bene_." Rolling her eyes at his stubborn male pride, she slinked under his arm and threw it around her shoulder. He was heavy, and she let out a prompt _oof_ when he gave up and went limp for a few moments. It was when they began to walk that a profound problem showed itself. She couldn't exactly waltz into the tower with an injured Assassin, who was known to all the others thieves as an enemy, it'd make no sense. No doctors were on duty during this hour either, so she couldn't properly tend to his injuries. Valeria's was also out – it was too risky for Remus' identity.

Her only other option was Leonardo's little workshop, which he hadn't come back to for over a year, so it had to be abandoned. Although she felt a bit guilty for breaking and entering, there was no other choice. He'd have no objections to Ezio using it, anyway. His weight was mildly overwhelming, but she managed to persevere.

"Where are we going?" He asked – his voice tired and just a bit weak.

"Leonardo's workshop in San Gimignano." She whispered. "You sound exhausted, how long haven't you slept?"

"Two days." He grunted. "I couldn't sleep. I do not know why." He left it at that, and after roughly ten minutes, they were in front of the door, and Remus wasted no time in kicking it open. Dust floated in the air from neglect, and she helped him up the stairs to the apartment above Leonardo's workshop. She laid him down on the small bed, and promptly faced the direction of the door.

"Sleep it off here. No one will disturb you," she began to stroll towards the door; "I will take my leave now."

"Gemma." He called softly, and she stopped. "_Aspetta_, _per favore_."

_"Che_?" She asked tonelessly, still facing the door.

There was hesitation. "Just stay with me until I fall asleep. I will sleep better … knowing you are here." That comment easily unnerved her, but she kept her composure.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She whispered, her eyes gluing to the floor. "I have business to attend to." This was only partly a lie – she just didn't want to be alone with him for too long a time. Old emotions could surface – everything she worked so hard to muffle and silence could resurface again with a louder voice. She reached for the door, but in the blink of an eye, a warm hand was latching on to her wrist, pulling her backwards, and she was then forced to face him.

The look in his eyes all but tore her apart. "Gemma," he whispered, "can we pretend that there is no business? That I am not an Assassin, and you are not the Master Thief of San Gimignano. I am Ezio," he removed his hood, "and you are Gemma. Two people. No hidden agendas, no lies, simply us." He removed her hood, too, and took in the sight of the dried dirt on her face, and faded scars from two years of struggling.

She looked away, then, attempting to stem the boiling sensation in her face. "You should lie down." It took a few agonizing moments before the warmth of his hands faded, but they did, and he obediently plopped back down on the comforter.

"I'm not the only one who is injured." He pointed out, eyes glued to the drying, dark red blood stains on her ratty clothes.

"I've had worse." She replied simply, slumping against the wall and clenching her eyes shut in an attempt to make sense of what to do in this kind of situation.

"It must get tiring," he commented after a few moments, lying on his back and staring at the white ceiling, "day after day, pretending to be something you are not."

"It has its merits." She replied, yawning. "I'm not treated like a fragile, defenseless woman. I am another thief. An individual. It is within this city that I have found my calling. I don't care if I have to be a man to do it, being a woman is too complicated."

He laughed softly. "I quite like it when you're Gemma, rather than Remus. It's almost like two separate personalities."

"Few know of Gemma's existence anymore," she speculated aloud, "there's Mario, you, and Demetrio. Everyone else is thinks that I'm dead or doesn't care. Probably both."

"Where _is_ Demetrio?" Ezio asked, a bit of hostile curiosity in his tone. He was, after all, one of the people that helped her run off.

"On a mission or something." She explained tonelessly. "He's been gone for months." They left it at that, and Gemma sat there, staring out the window into the night sky.

There was a long pause. "Are you just going to sleep against the wall?"

"_Sì_," she answered, "what of it?"

"I think we've discussed that my upbringing does not allow me to just let a lady sleep on the floor while I am on the bed."

"Well, that's wonderful," she replied calmly, "but I haven't been a lady for a long time, and first thing tomorrow morning, I'll be Il Lupo again."

He sighed heavily. "Can we not mention that now?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It annoys you that I'm Il Lupo?"

"Obviously."

"You do not even care," she dismissed with a roll of her eyes, "honestly, you do not have to–" He sat up, then, giving her a look that was questioning her sanity. His eyebrows were tented together.

"You cannot be serious," Ezio deadpanned, "are you_ actually_ suggesting that I did not drive myself mad, wondering where you were or if you were even alive?"

She rolled her eyes again. "Don't feed me that. Please. Maybe for the first week, it was just a curious thing that popped into your head, but _please_ don't lie to me." He was on his feet, then. Despite his injuries, he strode across the room and pulled her to her feet. Her back was pinned against the wall, and she was trapped.

"Why in all the hells would I lie about this?" He demanded softly, though his expression was clearly agitated. "What motive could I possibly have by lying and saying I didn't care that you were gone?"

"_Io non lo so._" She whispered, looking down. "I don't know what goes on in your head."

"Every day," he promised darkly, "I would sit and regret the moment I let you out of my sight. I would wonder if you were dead, I would plan what I'd do to the ones responsible, I would hate myself for making you believe that you were a _liability_."

"I was." She insisted sharply. "And now I am not. So, please, get off of me." Ezio only got closer, their chests brushing up against one another as the space between them began to dwindle.

He continued on as if she had not spoken. "I_ missed_ you, _car__a_. Not one hour would go by–!"

"Shut up–!"

"Your face was _stuck_ in my head–!"

"_Chiudi il becco_!" Gemma snapped, her heart racing as she shoved him off of her with all of her strength, attempting with all she had to push back her emotions and stormed to the opposite end of the small room. It was too late, though. Two years of regret and agitation threatening to show itself. "Stop it with your lies, Ezio! I cannot deal with it!"

It was then that he was fed up, too. "_Lies_? Gemma, why the hell would I lie, eh? Everything I am saying is true! You do not _know_ how much I care about you–!"

"Then why didn't you come after me?" It blurted out before she could stop it. After she killed Il Lupo – it'd been plaguing her thoughts for weeks. _Would__ you give up your entire life to preserve the life of a man who did not even love you enough to chase after you?_ "You would've been able to, Ezio. You would've found me if you wanted to."

He stared at her sadly. "You would not have come with me, _cara_."

"Maybe I would not have – but maybe I would have." She whispered, hot tears beginning to run down her face, giving him a look that told him he should have known.

"You're one of the most stubborn people I know," he whispered in reply, striding over to stand not two feet from her, "and I am just as stubborn, if not more. It would have been a waste of time. Mine and yours." She didn't reply, furiously rubbing away the warm river that was dripping down her face, facing the wall.

"I should go." She made a beeline for the door. "Your presence here it … it has unnerved me." Ezio wasn't having that, storming forward and slamming his hands on either side of her head, shoving the door entirely shut.

"When you walk out that door," he growled, turning her around so that she had no choice but to face him, "you are Il Lupo again. I will not have that. Not tonight. For once, Gemma, do not run away from me."

She stared at him defiantly, her lower lip quivering slightly. "What do you want from me, Ezio?"

"I do not know." He replied darkly. "I will find out soon." In one swooping motion, she was in his arms and their lips were pressed together. Two years of pent up _everything_ quite literally spilled out between them, and he lifted her body and pushed it against the wall, forcing her legs to wrap themselves around his waist. He began to forcefully push himself against her, exploring deeper, letting out almost inaudible growls, representing that he wanted to remind himself of what he'd been deprived of. She couldn't help but let out tiny little squeaks of confusion throughout it all.

Gemma couldn't make much sense of the situation. Her head was spinning. Her entire body was almost entirely ablaze. Ezio wasn't giving her any chance to catch her breath and regain a sense of logic – warm lips assaulting her own, and wandering down further still. Down her neck, hot tongue flicking across her collar bone. _You must stop this immediately._ It was a command spoken in the tone she usually used as Remus.

And yet she couldn't find her voice. Ezio didn't seem to notice her hesitation, running his tongue along the outline of her mouth, as if asking for permission to enter. He took her pause as a yes, and devoured her entirely. She hated how susceptible she was to such things, how _talented_ he was at keeping her mind boggled and unable to process coherently. His fingers gently traced the old scar he himself had given her that trailed from her jaw to her collarbone.

"Ez … Ezio!" She finally managed to force out. "Not now, we cannot–!"

"_Quando_, then?" He demanded, giving her a look that clearly summarized his impatience. "When will we ever have a chance like this again?"

She sighed shakily when he let her down to her feet. "You're exhausted," she tried, then, "let's leave whatever was about to happen to another time." He glowered at her for a few seconds, but proceeded to remove the weapons he had on his belt, letting them fall to the floor with a prompt thud. She glanced at the schiavona at her side, finally sighing and carefully leaning it against the wall, along with a set of hidden knives she kept strapped to her waist.

It was in that moment that Ezio snatched her wrist, pulling her to the bed with him. In a matter of seconds, her back was up against his stomach, and his arms were wrapped around her waist, as strong as iron bars.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, attempting to wriggle herself out of the man's grip. It only got more powerful, and his breath fanned against her ear when he spoke.

"I'm exhausted, remember?" He pointed out, his tone rather smug. "So, _buona notte_, _mia cara_." She exhaled sharply, but realized that she wasn't going to win in this rather annoying argument. Although her heart was misbehaving, she decided she might as well just sleep. As her eyelids fluttered shut, Gemma began to wonder why he was going to such lengths, saying such things that would only further condemn them both. Both of them had separate lives to lead. Separate responsibilities to attend to.

Then why reopen such an old wound? Such a cruel man this Assassin was.

"Gemma," he murmured, and she could tell he was trying to sleep, "relax, alright? I am not going to touch you. I am not a stranger … contrary to popular belief."

There was a long pause. "Ezio, why are you ignoring the inevitable?"

"Because I'm tired." He explained calmly. "Of everything. And so I want to sleep. You should, too, as I'm not letting you go anywhere." She finally sighed in defeat, curling into him, secretly grateful that they got this momentary bit of bliss. Gemma decided, then, that she wouldn't mind if she didn't wake up the next morning.

* * *

Gemma was the first to awake, and it seemed to be early in the morning, as the sun only just rose into the sky, by the looks of it. She was still wrapped quite tightly in Ezio's grip, but he was sound asleep. It took her a few seconds to realize how _safe_ she felt. Like the entire building could be engulfed in flames and she could simply sit there without a scratch on her. Gemma also noticed the fact that she wasn't facing the wall anymore, but rather, his face – his beautiful face, peaceful in the midst of slumber.

Unconsciously, her hand reached out, and her thumb brushed across his cheek, her fingertips tingling slightly from the stubble that lied on his face. He stirred briefly, muttering something unintelligible and pulling her even closer against his chest. A tiny smile crept across her lips. She knew this was wrong, and this would only shove them both further down into the pit they were personally digging, but she honestly did not care at that particular moment.

She could have lied there for a long time, just marveling in his presence and warmth. That was, until she began to listen more closely to his grunts and nearly inaudible words. His face knit in visible pain, one of his arms wandering to his waist where there would have been a sword.

"Cris …," Gemma listened further, her heart beginning to sink, "_Cristina_ – no. It was … _bastardo_." And he went on like that. She snaked out of his grip as best as she could, then, wandering to the window and looking up at the sky, a humorless smirk appearing on her face.

"You work quickly, don't you?" She asked the sky, a feeling of shame and stupidity beginning to fester in her head. _You are so stupid, Gemma_, she told herself. For a split second, she deemed herself special when it came to this man. All he told her – they were lies, just as she suspected. Mere words bent on swaying her back to what he was used to. The vulnerable, silent woman that only ever spoke to him. His mouse, the one he could play with until he was fully satisfied. After all, he had bigger, better prey to hunt down, since an eagle never stayed in the same place for too long. Evidently, the same one that was always better than her.

Well, that mouse no longer lived, and in its place stood a wolf. The one that would stand by her pack and fight. Wolves and eagles could never truly intermingle. Sooner or later, one of them had to leave to hunt down their enemies.

She would leave before he did. In mere minutes, all of her weapons were back in their proper place on her body and she fastened her hood over her head. She was reminded of what she'd come across in the city, and laid it next to him. Ezio stirred then, half-conscious, murmuring a name that was no longer associated with Remus. Remus ignored the Assassin, silently slinking away and out the door, shutting it quietly behind her.

* * *

It had to be about mid-afternoon when Ezio finally woke up, groaning and clutching his head. He hated the nightmares of Cristina, how he quite literally witnessed her death, mere moments after she'd begged him to take her with him. It killed him to deny her, but he was far too dangerous, and her life was good in Firenze. He was no longer necessary in her life, and with all that time apart, he no longer felt as strongly for the woman as he had before.

But then, those _bastardi_ killed her. Savonarola's men. Ezio killed every single last one of them that dared do such a thing, and then relished in the fact that Savonarola himself soon died. Along with the fact that he got the Apple back. Cristina had been his refuge back to his old life, the nostalgic thing that he could not let go. He got older, though. He realized that whatever they had was getting nowhere. She was his diamond, his rare stone, for quite some time.

Over time, however, he was more drawn to another gem – a slippery, evasive little thing. An emerald, latched in the center of a boulder. He almost thought he had finally reached the shimmering green center before the boulder was stolen from his hands, and when he found it again, he realized the rock he was chiseling had been replaced with iron. Iron he was ill-equipped to destroy.

Ezio snapped out of his reverie when he realized that he wasn't holding on to anything soft and warm, looking to his side and seeing nothing there except a single feather. The last one he needed for there to be one hundred in the chest for his mother back at the villa. All of Gemma's weapons were gone, too.

She wasted no time in leaving.

* * *

"Well, well," Drago mused in a sing-song voice when she finally got back to her office, "back so late in the morning, are we? Did our little Remus man up and have himself a woman?" Remus rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend and walking over to Dario.

"What news of Angelo?" She asked tonelessly.

"He didn't appreciate last night," Dario replied casually, "and has sent a message that he wants to duel with no involvement from either of your men. A man against man battle for the control of San Gimignano. His terms included fighting to the death." Remus' hands tightened into fists at her sides.

"Not a good idea." Elario warned her cautiously. "With all due respect, Remus, you've never been one for _physical_ strength."

Drago nodded once in agreement. "You should let him_ believe_ that you're going alone, and then let us sneak up on him and help you kill him."

"Do you honestly believe he'd fall for that?" Elario sneered. "He'd probably have men positioned all across the city to make_ sure_ that wouldn't happen."

"And his men would surely ambush Remus if they saw us." Dario pointed out matter-of-factly. "And that wouldn't really resolve anything."

Remus finally sighed. "I might as well, shouldn't I? To be rid of this nuisance of Angelo once and for all, I'll do what he says."

"Remus," Dario put his hand on her shoulder, "honestly, there has to be another way to do this. If he leads so many men this way, and we have not even _seen_ him, it cannot be good. As your second-in-command, I advise against this."

"On second thought, I've changed my mind," Drago commented, crossing his arms across his chest with an arrogant grin, "any _bastardo_ that doesn't show his face to his enemy before declaring a duel isn't worth all this worry. He's probably weak!"

"Haven't I told you underestimating the enemy is a _bad_ idea, _idiota_?" Elario snapped impatiently, leering at Drago. "He's probably not shown his face to us for good measure – so we cannot assume a battle strategy according to his appearance." The thief made an annoyed sound with his teeth, rolling his eyes.

Ignoring the peanut gallery beside him, Dario's expression turned grave. "It's unwise, and obviously a trap. Judging by his men's behavior in the city, I can easily assume Angelo is not an honest man, and I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself because you feel the need to play by the rules."

"You have so much confidence in my abilities, Dario." Remus remarked, smiling morbidly through her sarcasm.

"You're an amazing fighter," he insisted lithely, "but fighting is that man's entire existence. Our way of life is more akin to stealth, rather than outright battles. You should be given time to think on this, brother."

"Tch! What is there to think about?" Drago demanded, raising an eyebrow. "You might as well just kill the _bastardo_ when his back is turned!"

Dario ignored Drago, and ushered him and Elario out of the room. "Take all the time you need, Remus." And with that, she was alone again. Remus went into her room, hoping that maybe the former Il Lupo might have some wisdom. Be it for her problem with Angelo, or maybe, a certain Assassin.

* * *

_9 Maggio_

_ It's Lucrezia's birthday today, and I can't find her anywhere. I bought her a necklace to match her eyes. A large emerald – she might not wear it, but maybe she will. I checked with her father, and he claimed she went to the market early in the morning to check out the new competition. It was nearing nighttime, and there wasn't a single whiff of her. I became worried, and when I got home, and I came face to face with my 'fianceé', Alba. She looked smug. A sinister type of smug. The woman was obviously content with herself, and so I asked what brought about this happiness._

_ 'Your whore has run away.' She told me, and I could feel my heart twist from its position and fall into my stomach. I'd known her for a year when this happened, and we'd gone through quite the bit of persecution. From both of our families. My father threatened to entirely disown me if I kept it up – but I didn't care, and I told her this, but she didn't believe me. She was convinced I was ruining my life for her sake. She was under the assumption it was a bad thing. The foolish selflessness of that woman. It only strengthened my love for her. And so I stormed for the door. Alba tried to stop me, clinging on to my waist and pleading with her dull, lifeless blue eyes._

_ 'Do not go, Giulio,' she said, 'stay with me, you do not need her!' I promptly shoved her off of me and told her the truth. That I never felt a sliver of a pleasant feeling towards her, and my everything belonged to the woman I needed to find at that moment. My father appeared at the top of the stairs, then, warning me the minute I stepped out of that door, I was no longer an Orsini. I couldn't have left fast enough._

_ Giulio Orsini ceased to exist that day._

* * *

_ 20 Luglio_

_ I searched everywhere for two months straight. Firenze, Venezia, Roma, Perugia. I found all the leads I possibly could, I went on wild goose chases. I didn't care. All I cared about was where she was, if she was safe, what people were doing to her. It didn't occur to me that I gave up my entire life as a noble to look for her – and it didn't matter. I was miserable. She was the source of my happiness._

_ My tracking led me to Milano. I found her, then, on the outskirts of the city. Dead. Lying in a pool of dried blood, her clothes torn, her beautiful face torn. I don't remember what happened when I found Lucrezia, all I remember is that I blacked out, and woke up to meet the face of one I'd soon kill._

_ He wore a light gray hood, and had piercing brown eyes. I almost envied him, as my eyes were strange. One green, one blue. I was teased for it as a child. This man told me that he would help me exact my revenge. Only if I served him. I accepted. Just as long as I could tear apart the ones who dared violate her, to relish at the feel of their blood on my hands. To avenge Lucrezia, I wanted to go to the very pits of hell to reassure her wronged soul._

_ The man's name was Il Lupo of San Gimignano, and soon I, Giulio Orsini, became this man, when he personally asked me to kill him._

_ I didn't understand if this was a tradition, but in a way, I have no choice to continue it with this new novice of mine. The Templars didn't exactly give me a deal I could turn down. _

* * *

Remus stared at the parchment for a long while, attempting to make sense of Giulio Orsini's words and motives. She very much wanted to read further, but realized she couldn't. She had to come to a decision about Angelo, and quickly. Dario would be fine with however long she wanted to take to think, but Drago and Elario were bound to storm up the steps in less than an hour and demand a decision out of her. A duel, after all, seemed to be the only option.

And would death be such a horrible alternative? At merely eighteen years old, she'd managed to pull off more than one twice her age could dream of. Man or woman. Maybe not as much as some, but enough, to say the least. If she were to die in battle, then the position of Il Lupo would go to Dario, without a doubt. He would lead the men without a problem, and at least _his_ emotions would be kept at bay. Remus was still cursing herself for the lapse in rational judgment that previous night.

Often, she found herself wishing she could just sever her emotions entirely. It would make life so much easier, wouldn't it? No idiotic, feminine feelings getting in the way of what she needed to do – what she had to do.

Remus sighed in envy at the thought, leaning backwards onto her bed and covering her face with her hands. Her fingers brushed her lips where he had been just hours ago, and she unconsciously began to recall the feel of him – his warmth, his strength, his scent. Immediately as this crossed her mind, Remus furiously shook her head, as if to dispel such useless memories. Gods, how she wanted to forget what had happened.

"Remus!" Right on cue. "You lazy bastard, have you decided?" She groaned, standing to her feet and strolling out of her room to meet the irked, impatient hazel eyes of Drago, with the other two standing awkwardly near the door. He was notorious for having a patience span of roughly an hour, and Remus was no exception to this limitation.

She exhaled, but nodded. "I will fight him." Drago pumped his fist into the air in excitement.

"And this is your final decision?" Dario asked cautiously, and she replied with a silent, yet firm nod.

"If I fail to defeat Angelo," Remus murmured, shifting her gaze to the patient eyes of Dario, "then you are to take my place as leader, _capit__o_?"

"Well, that won't be necessary," he replied casually, smirking, "because you're not going to lose to him – I do not think any of us will allow it, even if you fail to defeat him. I honestly do not care about the terms of the duel. You're not dying, Remus."

Elario nodded without hesitation, mirroring the smirk. "You think we'd let you die? You must be joking, brother."

"I am Il Lupo," she disagreed calmly, "if I cannot defeat an enemy on my own, what good am I as a leader to the others?"

"Aren't we a pack?" Drago reminded her, grinning arrogantly from ear to ear. "You lead us, yes, but we fight together – as one. You, as the alpha, will assert your dominance over this territory, but if you fail to defeat the opponent, well, we're sure as hell not giving up our home without a fight. What do you think those _luridi branco di cani bastardi_ will do to us if you die? Either way, I know you're going to win."

"_Spero di sì__,"_ Remus commented, crossing her arms across her chest, "I will do my best, then."

"You better." Elario snorted, raising an eyebrow as if challenging her to do anything different. "I know your full potential, and it can be quite terrifying, brother."

"It can." Dario agreed, gazing directly into her eyes. "A cornered animal is probably one of the most dangerous things in the world, and this is basically what Angelo seems to be reducing you to. Show him your fangs, Remus. Tear him to shreds."

She couldn't help but smile a bit at that, silently nodding, a bit more confident in her abilities. Yes, she would utilize the power she'd learned after so long a time. Maybe it would serve her well – but could the true power of wolves be used correctly?

* * *

**A/N: And so I submit myself to your guys' judgment. Much complications ahead, and of course, I'd like to thank all of you for your kind words and reviews and whatnot. They really do make my day when I see them :D! So, if it's not too much, please continue on with whatever you guys want to say. By all means, your critique and constructive criticism help me correct my mistakes and grow on as a writer, to make the story better!**

**And kudos and awesome points to all who got the pun – the primary one was the fact that Remus Lupin from Harry Potter was a werewolf, because I'm an uber nerd, ****.0o was the only one that commented on the Lupin thing, so yay! And of course, Romulus and Remus, which is such an awesome myth, possibly one of my favorites. ****Stay linked for the next chapter, **_**per favore**_**! ;D**

_**Il Cucciolo:**_** The Puppy.**

_**Raqueiscat in Pace: **_**Rest in peace.**

_**Nessun problema, sto bene: **_**Not a problem, I'm fine.**

_**Aspetta, per favore:**_** Wait, please.**

_**Che?: What?**_

_**Io non lo so:**_** I do not know.**

_**Quando**_**: When?**

_**Capito: **_**Understand?**

_**Luridi branco di cani bastardi**_**: Filthy bunch of son-of-bitches.**

_**Spero di si**_**: I hope so. **


	17. Crepi Il Lupo

The Confidant

Chapter 17: Crepi Il Lupo

Ezio sighed heavily as he sat on the comfy chairs of Valeria's _bordello_, staring straight ahead as if he felt the need to memorize the cracks in the wall. Her girls were attempting to make idle conversation with him, but he wasn't all that interested at the moment.

"Why so glum, Ezio?" Valeria asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. He shrugged.

"Women … confuse me." It's all he really needed to say, because Valeria threw her head back and laughed in understanding.

"Yes, we're terribly confusing creatures – but here I was thinking you were an expert when it came to women. It seemed I was mistaken, hm?"

Ezio chuckled, shaking his head. "I never claimed to be an expert." She dismissed his defense with a disbelieving wave of her hand.

"Well, I think I know what might cheer you up," Valeria smiled, "it seems that a duel is about to begin soon. Actually, I think it might have already begun! We'd have to hurry."

"Oh?" A proper fight _could_ take his mind off of things. "Between whom?"

"That _bastardo_ Angelo, and our very own Il Lupo." Ezio's heart froze in its position, and he looked up to the madam, attempting not to look surprised, when he actually was quite ready to rush out the door and not look back to gauge the expressions of those he abandoned. His heart rate began to speed up, and Ezio's unconsciously pessimistic mind began to speculate all the horrible things that could happen to her. It didn't help calm him down in the least.

"Why are they going to battle?" He asked, controlling his tone to sound honestly curious, rather than anxiously furious.

"It seems they wish to settle just who controls the city once and for all," she explained, "I know quite well that Remus isn't one for needless battles, so it must be important to him. That boy can be such a pacifist, you know? An amazing fighter, though – when he battles, those green eyes are _absolutely_ terrifying."

"Yet _so_ _bello_." Allegra commented, fluttering her eyelashes at the recollection of it. Ezio's teeth clenched together. This was very bad. Was she crazy? Taking on an experienced mercenary leader in such a bold way – it was insane. She could be killed.

Valeria continued on as if the girl had not spoken. "According to what I've heard, it's going to be a fight to the death. The winner assumes control of the loser's men. I do not want to miss it, because of course; I will be rooting for Remus the entire time. Care to join me, Ezio?" _Merda._ His mouth set in a hard line, and he knew very well he couldn't waste anymore time. She was always so brash, so reckless, so bold – but to this extent? To willingly put herself in this form of danger? It was insanity. And, knowing her, she was probably convinced she would win.

He absolutely refused to lose Gemma to her own foolishness. Never.

"Ah, Valeria, I would love to accompany you," he said, standing and attempting to sound completely casual and caught off guard, "but I have a prior engagement I must attend to before going to this battle. Surely, I'll meet you there." She pouted, but shooed him away with a brief wave of her hand. He nearly ripped the door from its hinges on his way out, and just as the door closed, he sprinted down the street, and up a wall. He had to get there with time to spare.

* * *

"Remember; utilize your agility, Remus." Drago reminded him on the way to the duel. "You're not as tall as most of us, but that makes you hard to hit. Use it as an advantage; make it hell for him to try hitting you, you got that?"

Remus rolled her eyes, but nodded. Her schiavona had been sharpened and polished for the battle, so her morale was a bit higher than usual. By her side were Dario and Elario, silently showing the city that they moved as a pack. A group of mercenaries led them to the arena, which was actually the market place that'd been cleared out for the duel. There were spectators on the edges, whooping and heckling both their disapproval and excitement. Even the guards were standing off to the corner, betting on who'd win by who had the biggest criminal record.

"So you've shown yourself, Lupo." The mercenary Ezio stopped her from killing appeared, his eyes filled with vengeance and bitter joy. He looked like he was having a difficult time moving, the way his body was bandaged. "You're not as much of a _codardo_ as I originally thought. Maybe your death this evening will be a little less painful as a result."

"Watch your mouth, _figlio d'un cane_," Elario snarled, glaring at the man, "or I'll personally rip it off of your ugly face." They moved forward, coming up to a man with his back turned. He was wearing a black cloak, so there was no way to make out his appearance.

"Do not get involved," Remus warned the four under her breath, "there are too many mercenaries here; they'll kill if you try anything."

"Let them try!" Dario exclaimed, smirking. "I'll enjoy the challenge." Without a word more, and silent wishes of good luck, the four thieves dispersed to their posts to watch the battle fare out. She stood and waited for the man to turn around.

"I'd like to see the face of the one I'm going to duel." Remus called out tonelessly, waiting with narrowed eyes.

"Fair enough." A sickeningly familiar voice answered, and Angelo turned around, removing his black hood, and as she stared into those blue-gray eyes of his, the concept of Angelo seemed to disappear. She immediately imagined Venezia as she analyzed this man, and the gears began to turn in her head. Remus had examined the same eyes too many times to not know them immediately, and those characteristic freckles on his face …

Alessio.

"Good of you to show up, Remus." He welcomed her, a calm smile on his previously boyish, adorable face. "I'm sure you recognize the terms of the duel, yes?"

"Yes." She answered, unsheathing the sword at her side. "Fight to the death, is it?"

"No hard feelings, of course," he added innocently, flashing her a polite smile, "it is simply a matter of business."

She nodded, her hand tightening at the hilt of her sword. With a deep sigh, she allowed everything she'd learned of combat to flood back into her brain over the years, and everything else not pertaining to battle was pushed backwards, into the back of her head. The crowd of people dwindled, and her target was all she saw.

"Begin!" Remus didn't know who said it, but within a second Alessio lunged at her, his sword gleaming in the low sunlight. She just barely evaded it, snarling under her breath and attempting to slash her sword against him. The blades met, a ring echoing throughout the area, and their faces grew closer when one attempted to overpower the other. Alessio's face showed that this seemed to be a harmless little game to him, rather than a fight to the death. He'd changed over the years. He wasn't the same boy that showed her all around Venezia, and she was happy to be rid of the monster that took over him.

"Has being a Templar corrupted you, Alessio?" She demanded quietly in between slashes and grunts of displeasure. His smile grew a bit wider.

"One would think so," he murmured calmly, slicing a horizontal slash across her stomach, "but it is because of your Assassin that I am like this."

"I have no idea who you speak of." She hissed through clenched teeth, attempting to disregard the stinging pain on her stomach.

"He killed my parents," he informed her with menacing delight, "and so I'm returning the favor, but in a different way." She countered his next attack, managing to slice vertically down his cheek. He seemed unperturbed, kicking her in the stomach. She slid backwards, swearing under her breath and mentally chanting at herself to _focus_. It was a few moments after the impact that she couldn't help but cough up just a bit of blood. Remus knew she had to step it up. Everyone in the city was witnessing this – if they lost faith in Il Lupo's power, then winning this duel would mean nothing.

And so she tried stabbing at him, but she only managed to tear at the cloth of his shirt. Her temper flaring, she lunged forward to perform a risky, vertical slice down his chest. He didn't expect it out of her, and it went down successfully, to a point of which Alessio had to leap backwards and inspect the damage with murmurs of disappointment and swear words. He sighed, as if he'd just stained a shirt that he was particularly fond of, and shifted his gaze back to Remus.

It raged on for near half an hour, and soon both parties were panting heavily. Both of Remus' arms had large, vertical gashes that stretched from her forearm to her elbow. She'd managed to give Alessio roughly the same treatment, but Remus only got one arm. In the end, she'd given forth a bit more effort than him. All the while, she'd been wanting to scream at him, to demand to know where her best friend went and what the hell he did with the old Alessio. She'd envied him for his carelessness, his innocence, and his happiness – but now, as she looked upon the man standing in front of her, she knew that her Venetian friend was dead. In his place stood someone she could easily hate.

And she would kill him.

"You've always been stubborn." He noted casually, stepping forward, his face caked in sweat. "I suppose I'm going to have to do this the hard way." He slashed at her, and she would have thought it was a foolish move to make before his fist came into her sight, and it was too quick for her to avoid it. She fell backwards, sliding across the tiles and landing on her back. A distraction. Before Remus could register what had happened, a foot was slamming into her side. Again, and then again, and again.

Remus refused to give in, desperately reaching her schiavona and went for a stab at his leg, but he kicked her hand, and the sword fell with a clang to a far end of the marketplace. Alessio grabbed a fistful of her exposed hair, and brought his lips to her ear. "Shall I tell them your secret, _Gemma_?" She had enough in that moment. Something in her head snapped, and, with what little power she had, shoved herself free of his grip and stormed forward to face the crowd.

"I have risked my life to make sure this city stays safe for all of you, time and time again," she grabbed on to her tunic, and she tried to make her voice project confidently, "and I led my men as fairly as I could manage, but you should know the truth." With a swift tug, the shirt ripped in halves, and her breast bindings showcased to the crowd. Her gaze did not waver. "_Sì_, I am a woman, and I have lived as a man, but that should not mean that I am incapable of doing what I have been doing for two years! I am as dedicated, if not more, than any man! Do not judge me by appearance alone!" Gemma knew how risky this was, how likely it was to fail, but she was tired of giving her enemies the upper hand when they learned of her gender. It shouldn't matter, and she knew these people were aware of it. All that was left was for them to abandon age-old traditions.

Yet, she couldn't help but fear the outcome of doing this. Her life was _good_ in this city, and for once, she felt like she was needed somewhere. As Il Lupo, she had duties to attend to, and didn't have to dwell on the antics of Ezio. But the prospect of having to live without constantly lying to everyone around her, not having to put up a facade of manliness at all points – it was almost too good to pass up. Her luck, however, hadn't served her very well recently.

Alessio smirked, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to her knees. His voice was a mixture of malevolence and amusement, and it gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. "You have all been deceived. Horribly." They all gasped in horror, and began to heckle curses and swears at her. "This is _no_ man, as you can see. It was all a lie." She was forced to meet the faces of the three who she trusted most. Their eyes – hazel, honey, and brown – were filled with betrayal and absolute shock. Drago looked away furiously, refusing to look at her, and Elario did the same. Dario, however, kept staring, his expression growing more and more annoyed until she couldn't hold his gaze any longer.

"_Che vista penosa_," Alessio commented softly, facing the crowd with his free arm extended, "what will you do now that I have your little whore, _Assassin_?" There was silence, and people's eyes wandered around the square for this supposed Assassin, but nothing stirred.

Gemma let out a tiny, humorless laugh. "He is not coming. You've miscalculated."

"Have I?" He looked surprised, shrugging. "At least one assumption of mine has proven true – he threw you away just as soon as he was done with you." That made her heart lurch painfully in her chest, and if that wasn't enough, an outburst from the crowd rang out.

"We were brothers! _Fratelli per vita_!" Drago bellowed, stepping forward. "And all along you've _lied_ to us? I bet your name is not even Remus – _puttana stupida_! Were you in league with that _bastardo_ Assassin all along?"

"Drago–!" She tried to speak, but he would not allow it, cutting her off with a furious, exasperated gesture.

"_Ti odio_," he growled, " I trusted you! Never show your face among us again, _capito_? You are no longer my brother, just a stupid woman who does not know her place in the world!" Dario stopped him from going any further with a hand on the thief's shoulder. He furiously shrugged it away, storming off in an opposite direction. Gemma's eyes were glued to the floor, and it took all she had to force back the tears that were threatening to burst through. People were beginning to disperse. There was nothing interesting anymore.

Alessio released his hold of her hair. "They betray you simply because you're a woman," he paused when she turned her head to glare the sharpest daggers possible at him, "of course, _I_ always accepted you, but _that_ doesn't matter, does it? It never did." His words confused her, but she couldn't think any further, because the hilt of his blade suddenly came slamming down on her head, and the world dimmed to a calm, safe black.

* * *

He was panting by the time he reached the market square, but nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be going on. He'd checked all significant places in the city, until finally an old man said that the duel was to be held in the square, and commented that he'd better hurry. Ezio's well-trained eyes scrutinized the area as much as possible, looking for any signs of a battle – or of her. There was nothing. Suddenly, a tug came from behind him, and he whirled to come face to face with a little boy with big brown eyes and freckles.

"Are you _Ser_ Ezio?" The child asked, and he nodded silently. He reached into his pocket and held out a small, folded piece of parchment with the word _Assassin_ printed on the front.

"Who is this from?" He demanded.

"I don't know," the boy answered innocently, "he was a funny-looking man with blue eyes, carrying Il Lupo – did you know that he's actually a woman?"

Ezio's eyes widened in alarm. "How did you know that?"

"She told us – and ripped her shirt! She had bandages on her chest!" So she exposed herself to the city … but why? Ezio could not hold back the surge of pride at her bravery, though – the situation must have been frustrating, just as the one he was dealing with at the moment. It raised the question, however, of what the hell he wanted with her. He had a feeling Angelo could be a Templar. But first, he had to find her. And quickly.

"_Grazie_, _ragazzo_," Ezio murmured, mussing the top of the boy's head, "where did that man go?"

"He was going to the gates last I saw him!" Ezio sharply inhaled, placed a few coins in the child's hand and dashed off. He had no idea where they'd take her if they left San Gimignano. Time was against him, and he knew it, but he didn't care. All he cared about was that she was alive, and that Angelo would soon be dead. The gates were empty when he got there, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his eyes scanning the area frantically for a sign of carriages.

He remembered then about the note. Sometimes, fiends got arrogant – they'd give away blatant clues to mess with their victims. Maybe this was one of those scenarios. Ezio opened the slip of parchment, and sharply inhaled in frustration.

_Hunt me down, Assassin. Hunt me down as you've done to my parents. I can only imagine the precious information in her head. Poor little Gemma thinks you've abandoned her. Are you really so cruel?_

_A._

Ezio easily crushed the parchment in his hand, his temper flaring like a wild fire. There was no Angelo, it all had to be that Alessio Esposito. He cursed himself for not realizing this. He should have taken care to kill him when he killed the Espositos. Because of his carelessness, she was in the hands of one who had a personal grudge against the both of them. Ezio was no fool, he saw even back in Venice that the boy had feelings for Gemma. Whether they were petty or strong, he couldn't tell, but they were there, and it made an underlying green monster attempt to make a nest in the Assassin's head.

By the gods, he hoped she was alright. It didn't matter, of course, because he'd raise fire to all of Italy if it meant finding her. Gemma was a strong girl, but if she was reduced back to silence, he was positive that there would be nothing left of Alessio Esposito to recognize.

What if she was dead already? Ezio snarled to himself, dispelling the thought from his mind, adamant on finding her alive and sane. He had enough of those he cared about dying because of his incompetence. No – she wasn't dead. She was alive. They think she has information regarding the Piece of Eden. Gemma didn't even know the Apple existed, let alone its location, and he's sure that's what they wanted.

She would not be sacrificed like a martyr for such things. He would stop the hand of Death himself if he had to.

There had to be a way to get information. It was then that he spotted those three companions of hers, and they didn't seem to be in any hurry, though they looked annoyed as they turned into an alley.

__But then, why were they simply walking around?

"_You_," Drago snarled when Ezio showed himself, "what the hell do you want?"

"I want to know what happened to Ge – … Remus."

"Her name – what is it?" Dario asked quietly, leaning against the brick wall of the alley and staring at Ezio.

He hesitated. "Gemma."

"Who cares what her name is?" Drago snapped harshly, his fists clenching at his sides. "She betrayed us. She deserved what she got."

_This_ easily annoyed Ezio. "Tell me, how did she betray you?"

"What's it to you?" He countered, glaring at the Assassin. "She probably told you _all_ of our secrets!"

A cold smirk graced his face. "You're mistaken. She didn't tell me a thing – in fact, she tried her best to get me out of the city."

"Why?" Elario demanded tonelessly, his fists clenching tightly at his sides. "You two are apparently very close."

"It is … complex." Ezio explained curtly, but he was on to more serious matters, and his tone took a sharper edge than he expected. "What I want to know is why you'd abandon her." It already killed him that he didn't make it in time – but he was sure these three were witnessing the entire thing. The thought of them just standing by while she was being carried off infuriated him.

"You wouldn't understand," Drago retorted, his voice laced with venom, "nor do I wish to explain myself to the likes of you."

"Are you aware of her sacrifice?" Ezio seethed, his eyes narrowing as he attempted to control his flaring temper. "Her life hasn't been easy … and I am one of the reasons it hasn't. She could have married, had children, had a family – but I was too selfish. She could have had a normal life, and I took that from her. So I ask you right now – _how_ did she betray you?"

"I've known … Gemma for more than two years now, Assassin," Elario explained harshly, though his tone was wavering, "and I considered her my brother in almost every sense of the word."

"And we've told her everything," Drago added in sharply, his face knit with annoyance, "she obviously didn't care about us enough to trust us, so to hell with her! _Everything was a lie_! Let her rot, for all I care." He looked away as if he'd been slapped, and Ezio quickly deduced he was the most selfish of the trio.

Ezio's patience snapped, then, and he grabbed the scruff of Drago's collar, hoisting him into the air and glaring flames into the thief's face. "Would you like to know where she is now? Taken hostage. By my enemies – it isn't her battle, but they're going to do whatever they can to get information she _does not_ have out of her!"

"What do you want me to do?" Drago fumed, though his face flashed with concern for a few moments. "That … that _bastardo_ Angelo took her, what's the use of hunting to no avail now?"

"You are a coward." Ezio growled, tossing Drago so that he fell to the stone floor. "_Fine_! I will search for her by myself, I am glad to see she had such dedicated _amici_." Ezio turned on his heel, storming off in the opposite direction, feeling the need to punch something. Or stab something.

"Wait a moment, Assassin." He whirled to see Dario, who had stepped forward with an adamant look in his eyes. "I will join you."

"_Dario_!" Drago protested in disbelief, shoving himself to his feet from his position on the ground. "She betrayed us! You cannot mean to–!"

He ignored him. "Gemma is still Il Lupo, and … she is still my friend, despite what has happened. I will hunt down and kill those responsible, and let her know she is not alone." Dario strode forward to stand beside Ezio.

"_Bene_, I too, shall join in." Elario murmured, though he looked unsure – torn between two different arguments. "I realize now that she must not have had much of a choice in the matter, and if I was in her position, I would have down the same. I offer you my strength, Assassin." Ezio nodded, actually appreciating the help. Normally, he would've worked alone, but this eased the weight on his heart a great deal.

Drago looked severely troubled, but he finally threw his arms into the air, exasperated. "Bah! I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Elario smirked at this, shaking his head in agreement.

"My uncle has agents all across _Toscana_," Ezio explained when they began walking towards the gates of San Gimignano, "she cannot have simply disappeared into thin air."

He would find her. He would kill all who stood in his way. He would make sure to never let her out of his sight again.

He would not lose her.

* * *

Her head ached more than she thought possible. Her arms were bound tightly with chains, to a point of which struggling against them only made it more painful. It was nighttime, and she registered that she was in a carriage after a few moments.

"_Buona sera_," Alessio's quiet, sardonic voice rang out, "you shouldn't move around too much, it won't be doing you any good."

"Alessio," she murmured, "why are you doing this?"

"This is the world you've gotten yourself involved in," he replied indifferently, "and, well, you have information in your head that my _maestro_ would _love_ to hear." She felt sick to her stomach at the concept of how this person had changed. Even his face, one so boyish and carefree, had lost its rounded splendor and was now sharp, precise, and frightening.

"I haven't spoken to Ezio in over two years," Gemma growled, and it wasn't _entirely_ a lie, "I have no information that you all are not already aware of."

He shrugged. "_Mi dispiace_, but I am a man that must have things proven … for them to be believed – surely, Ezio will come _rescue_ you, won't he? So what's the problem?" Her teeth clenched tightly. She knew what he was doing, but it wouldn't work. Ezio was not coming, she had already given up on that within minutes of losing the duel. That Assassin had bigger, far more important things to do than trouble himself with a girl who didn't know what she wanted. It must have been why he didn't show himself when Alessio called out to him.

She would have to find her own way to escape. "Where are we going?"

"Roma. You'll be meeting Pope Alexander IV first thing in the morning."

* * *

**A/N: I'm so happy summer's here! I can focus so much more on my writing without schoolwork breathing down my neck like a creepy old stalker. And ahaha, am I unintentionally teaching you all Italian? But, of course, thank you all once again for your words of encouragement, I can't hide the goofy grin that comes on my face when I read each one. :D _Grazie_, _amici_! And of course, stay linked for the next chapter, as I have quite a bit in store ahead. **

**I'd also like to thank Era-Age, by the way. She's such an amazing person to go to for well-thought out, straight-to-the-point opinions, is hilarious, and just an overall fantastic person! Her writing is amazing, too. Loving Hate, a story she dedicates so much time and effort to, is really something you all should give a try. You won't be disappointed – I promise!**

_**Codardo**_** – Coward.**

_**Fratelli per vita**_** – Brothers for life.**

_**Puttana stupida – **_**Stupid whore.**

_**Che vista penosa**_** – What a painful sight.**

_**Ti odio**_** – I hate you.**

_**Amici**_** – Friends.**

_**Buona sera**_** – Good evening.**

_**Toscana**_** – Tuscany. **


	18. Sangue

**A/N: Just a quick thanks to my awesome editor, Era-Age, who cracks me up AND knows what she's doing – you should check out her fics, you shan't be disappointed! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed, because Ubisoft is mean. D;**

* * *

The Confidant

Chapter 18: Sangue

Roma was as beautiful as the stories she'd heard portrayed it to be. The streets were paved with stone, and its width stretched on for what seemed like miles upon miles. There seemed to be alleyways in the corners that led to God knew where. Gemma would have enjoyed it much more, if not for the chains binding her wrists. Nevertheless, she poked her head out of the sides of the carriage to at least drink her fill of Roma before she was taken to meet the Pope. She'd heard her men speak of him, this new Pope Alexander IV. Nothing of what they said was good, so she expected the worst. He was also a Templar, and her past experiences with them had not been positive.

The carriage soon came upon a massive square, where there stood an equally massive, beautifully sculptured building looming over a wide area where many people were wandering around.

"Welcome to the _Cappella Sistina,_" Alessio said with a sweeping gesture of his hand and a smirk, and she knew he was doing this entirely on purpose. He led her out of the carriage, tugging on her chains to further emphasize her lack of escape. "You should be honored that you're meeting the _maestro_ so directly."

_Oh, I'm shaking in my boots with anticipation._ She very much wanted to say that as sarcastically as humanly possible, but decided against it. Wasting her breath with the likes of him wasn't something she felt the need to do.

Her entire body was screaming for rest. Alessio didn't allow her to sleep during the ride over to Roma, and her skin ached and stung with the pain of the duel. She'd dealt with these kind of battles before, but nothing to this extent. And usually she rested for a bit to regain her strength. They walked up the vast steps and came upon a large wooden door.

A man dressed entirely in red was at the door when it opened. "_Ser _Alessio! What is it?"

"I wish to speak to _Messere _Rodrigo," he replied casually, as if he did not have a hostage on chains right behind him. "I believe he's expecting me."

The man looked troubled, but gestured inside. "Very well … please, come in." It confused Gemma as she looked upon this man, as he was acting as if she wasn't even there. Despite her current physical anguish, she couldn't help but be amazed at the beauty of the Chapel. The time and money that must have been spent upon this building … she couldn't even fathom the amount, nor did she want to.

On the way there, a man dressed quite interestingly strode by, and the look in Alessio's eyes clearly showed that he did not like whoever this was. Unfortunately for him, the stranger noticed them and a wide smirk appeared on his extremely handsome, pale face.

His skin was a sharp contrast to his very dark, medium length hair, and the bits of stubble on his chin. He looked to be about twenty or so – Gemma was unsure, but either way, he had a classic, arrogant look on his face.

"Alessio Esposito," he strode over to them, a long red cape billowing behind him, "how bold of you to appear before the Pope so shortly after he dismissed you from his presence. He has better things to do than to listen to false leads of yours, I'm afraid."

Blue-gray eyes narrowed. "_Ser_ Cesare," addressing this man so respectfully sounded like it really pained him, "I have with me something that will both wound the Assassin and bring us closer to the Apple – so step aside."

Cesare's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh?" He noticed Gemma standing there, then, and the smirk on his face grew just a bit wider. "Oh, my, my. I didn't think you'd stoop so low … the Assassin's woman, I take it?"

"It doesn't concern you if she is," he hissed.

"What is your name, hm?_"_ Gemma felt the strongest urge to slam her fist into his face. If only her hands weren't chained up. His hand stretched out, and with two fingers, Cesare grabbed her jaw and examined her face. Her teeth clenched together tightly. "Clean her up and send her to my chambers, Alessio, I'll surely get more information than you ever will." Seeing no reason why she shouldn't, Gemma jerked her face out of his grip, glaring at him. Ezio seemed like the humblest person in all of Italy compared to this man, and she didn't even think it humanly possible.

"She won't be going anywhere," Alessio replied darkly, and the sharp edge in his tone surprised Gemma a bit. "Especially not with _you_."

"Need I remind you of your current _position_ in our organization?" he asked Alessio, his dark eyes narrowing. "And what gives you the impudence to speak to me in such a way?"

"_Messere _Rodrigo wouldn't appreciate you tampering with his information source," Alessio replied instead, shoving past the man and storming in the direction of the Pope's study. Gemma had to bite back the retort she had for being referred to as an 'information source'.

* * *

Ezio audibly swore, feeling the need to punch something as he leaned against a cold brick wall in San Gimignano. Or stab something. Or a combination of the two. He'd exhausted all of his resources, and wasn't a single step closer to finding her. She could be anywhere – with anyone – probably hurt … he swore once more, burying his face in his hands.

"Man up," Drago remarked harshly, "honestly – Remus is stronger than you think."

"Gemma," Ezio deadpanned, looking up and leering at him. "Her name is Gemma."

He made an annoyed noise with his teeth. "She told me her name was Remus. I've called her Remus for two years. I am calling her Remus." The leer intensified into a glare, but Dario intervened before something could spiral out of it.

"Your associate says he hasn't seen a thing in the countryside. Is there anyone else we can speak to?" Ezio paused, finally seeing no other alternative. He'd have to talk to one of the few people on his side he couldn't really stand.

Demetrio.

"Unfortunately," he grunted, knowing exactly where his men usually hung around.

* * *

"Ezio Auditore's woman, eh?" The Pope murmured. He was a sinister-looking, round man with dark skin and brown hair. "Is this his current one or one of the leftover scraps?" That made her heart tighten in her rib cage, but she kept her face stoic. If there's one thing she knew men like this enjoyed, it was when they got the feeling of power over another. She would not give him this. Alessio had explained the entire situation to him, and Cesare, who had been listening at the doorway, let out a short laugh.

"Il Lupo, was it?" He threw his head back in laughter. "I would never tolerate my woman doing such a thing – I'm surprised he did not teach you your place, consider yourself lucky." Gemma quickly decided that she did _not_ like this man. An ugly personality hidden by a pretty face, something she thought Ezio was for quite sometime.

"Tell me, _woman_," Rodrigo drawled, emphasizing her gender quite adamantly, "how close were you and the Assassin?" She didn't reply. She felt no need to, seeing as how he assumed her to be his leftover scraps not five minutes ago.

"I suggest you answer him," Alessio warned her darkly.

What point _was_ there of answering him? Nevertheless, she indulged his request. "He and I have nothing more than a business relationship. I tell him what I know that's going in my city."

"Obviously meaning he chewed you up and spat you out like a used toy," Cesare remarked matter-of-factly with a smirk on his face. Her insides boiled as she glared at him, but she made no move to disagree with that statement. It'd only waste her breath, and coax him to continue further with a topic she really didn't want to talk about.

"Do not lie to me," Rodrigo reminded her, a very dark promise in his tone. "I am a man who does not like it when things don't go my way, and so I'm going to ask you this, and you will answer me honestly or face the consequences – _where is The Apple_?"

The Apple? What the hell was that? "I don't know what that is." Rodrigo Borgia's face grew far more sinister in that moment.

"You made your choice, woman." He inclined his head to the guards standing at the door, beckoning them forward. "Take her upstairs to Vannozza, she'll know what to do – and when that is done, take her downstairs to the chambers."

In a last minute attempt, she threw Alessio a desperate look as they seized her arms. He frowned fiercely, looking away.

* * *

"You're a fool, Ezio," Demetrio snapped, running a hand through his untamed curls. "I didn't say anything when I saw you going into San Gimignano because I figured you'd already given up on her. I guess I was wrong – and look what happens? Why must misfortune follow wherever you go?" The mercenary wasn't pleased when Ezio told him of what happened. In fact, he looked frustrated.

"I did not come here to be scolded_,_" Ezio replied sharply, his teeth grinding together. "I want to know if you've seen any sign of her."

"And if I did?" Demetrio demanded, taking a step forward in challenge. "It would mean that I actually trusted the likes of you to bring her to safety. Be at ease, Assassin, a more competent warrior goes in your stead." This didn't help Ezio's short temper.

"_Pezzo di merda_, I have half a mind to kill you where you stand." One of his hidden blades hissed from its hiding spot as a warning to the mercenary, but Demetrio only smirked coldly in response, a hand wandering to the hilt of his blade.

"I welcome it from the _bastardo_ who could not make up his mind about the woman he loved, and didn't do a damn thing when she ran." The astonished look on Ezio's face made him chuckle humorlessly. "Do not lie to me – or yourself, Assassin. You love her, and look what happened when you weren't man enough to accept it?" The Assassin thanked so many years of controlling his anger, because it took everything he had not to lunge at this mercenary and bury his hidden blade in Demetrio's throat.

"You've got it all wrong," he snapped instead, a strange warmth in his face, "it is because of me that she is in this situation, so it's my responsibility to get her out of it."

Demetrio's eyes widened furiously. "After all this time, you _still_ deny it?"

"_Basta_, the both of you," Dario interjected, strolling forward. Ezio did indeed run ahead of the three thieves, and they just now caught up with him. "Demetrio. _Per favore_, what do you know?"

The mercenary heaved a sigh, but pointed north. "I saw a decorated carriage come through here a day or two ago, in the direction of Roma. If I had realized it was Gemma … I would have gone to save her myself."

"I appreciate it," Dario said, flashing him a sincere smile. "Now, Ezio can stop being a child and we can leave immediately."

"_I'm_ being the child?" Ezio fumed.

"Oh, shut up!" Drago barked, throwing his arms into the air with an exasperated gesture. "Can we go already?

"By all means. I grow tired of this constant bickering," Dario murmured, turning in the direction of the stables so they could find transportation to Roma.

"Auditore," Demetrio growled, his eyes narrowing when the Assassin turned around, "if she doesn't make it out of this alive, her death will be on _your_ shoulders – and I'll take pleasure in bringing about _your_ death."

A confident smile stretched across the Auditore's handsome face. "I will _not_ fail."

* * *

Vannozza was a beautiful woman with soft red hair and alluring green eyes – but her personality sharply contrasted from her appearance. She was strict, precise, and blunt, and didn't waste a single moment removing all of Gemma's thief clothing.

"Honestly, how did your mother raise you?" she demanded as she began to harshly remove her breast bindings. "A proper lady shouldn't be running around like this! Look what it's done to your body!" She gestured broadly to the scars all over Gemma. The woman then grabbed a hold of both of her breasts, making her body to go stiff from shock. "I think they've deformed a little, too!"

This really wasn't helping her temper. "The situation called for it."

"Then you're a fool," the woman snapped as she pushed into a small tub, splashing very, very cold water onto her body, "I can see why that filthy Assassin didn't want to deal with you – a woman must_ always_ maintain her beauty. You've done the exact opposite!" Gemma's hands clenched into tight fists, her teeth clenching as the woman began to forcefully scrub away all the baked dirt and grime from her body. It stung like mad.

"Do not tell me what I already know," she growled. "What about you? The mistress to the Pope!"

Her hand then got ten times rougher. "Don't speak to me in such a way, you filthy little urchin. You do _not_ know the situation – so don't pretend like you do!"

"I could say the same for you," Gemma retorted quietly, though her tone was sharp. "What are you even _doing_ this for?"

"Your skin will be softer," Vannozza replied tonelessly. "And the Pope wishes you to at least look like a woman when he's questioning you." The woman then shoved a very thin, simple white dress over Gemma's head. Her mouth set in a hard line, and she contemplated her ways of escaping this hell hole. With no weapons, no knowledge of the city, and no decent clothes – her chances were very slim. She then decided, as she was being ushered out of the room by those armed guards again, that she had to simply wait for an opportunity to arise.

"I'm glad _Signora_ Vannozza made you look half-way decent," one of the guards commented, smirking. She was silent, scanning the long, elegant hallways for a means of escape – but nothing appeared, and soon, she was led down a flight of curling, stone staircases. Her eyes widened slightly, though she wasn't surprised that such a place existed in a building so gorgeous. The ugly truth always hid behind a beautiful appearance.

Gemma was taken to a stone room, lit only by dim torches, and the three she currently despised the most in the entire city were all standing there, waiting to humiliate her. She was shackled to the wall by her wrists and ankles, her wrists held above her head so she couldn't defend herself when … the questioning began.

"White suits you," Cesare remarked casually, his usual smirk on his face as his eyes roved all over her body.

"Do you see the position you are in now, Gemma?" The sound of Rodrigo using her name so casually made her insides churn. "Being stubborn, or loyal to a man that has abandoned you, will do you no good here if you wish to survive." Was this their only means of trying to emotionally disrupt her? _Ezio_? Ha! She'd given up on him long ago. If this was all they had against her, she knew they would be down there all night.

"Such a strong spirit," murmured Cesare, a sickening smile on his face. "I wonder how long it will take to break it." She took that time to glare at Alessio with all she had – he was dead to her. Gemma was determined to prove she wasn't a frail woman to these _bastardi_, and vowed not to show a single sign of weakness. She did not want to give them that kind of satisfaction.

"Very well – tell me, Gemma, what kind of man _is_ Ezio?"

"A better one than you'll ever be," she responded icily.

Borgia chuckled darkly. "Wrong answer. _Adolfo_." The guard that walked up was a very burly-looking man. He kicked her side and she had to bite down on her tongue to force back the urge to cry out – the sheer strength of the blow was unexpected. "I'm sure Ezio had an _interesting_ time with one like you, woman."

He was definitely one that liked to prolong things. "You do not seem to understand the … _severity_ of this situation. That Apple is necessary for our Order."

"I don't _know_ what it is, or where it is!" Gemma hissed, careful to keep her voice toneless. Adolfo silently unsheathed a dagger at his side, crouching down to her level, and ripped open the back of her dress, the cold blade running along her skin. It started off as a stinging, but that soon was replaced with a terrible mixture of icy blade and white hot pain, like her body was slowly being set on fire. It trailed down her back, leaving tentative trails of blood. By the gods, _why was it so slow_?

He stopped, much to her relief, when Borgia spoke again. "You seem to be fighting with all your might, woman. Why? Are you hoping the Assassin will waste his time rescuing you?"

"No," she said through clenched teeth. "I am not depending on him for anything."

Cesare threw his head back and laughed. "Your eyes beg to differ, they say _please Assassin, come save me so that I may give my entire self to you_!" Gemma wished this man one of the most painful deaths possible right then.

"What man, even one as low as the Assassin, touches a woman who has a body marred by disobedience and farcical beliefs?" Borgia demanded, grinning humorlessly. "You're better off telling me where the Apple is – because you know as well as I do that he has many, _many_ beautiful women waiting for him everyday. He has most likely forgotten that you even existed." _Shut up_, she thought bitterly, _I don't want to hear what I already know_! She felt pathetic by allowing this to affect her so much.

"Ezio or not," she hissed, "I have never heard of an Apple." Adolfo shoved her to her feet, unlocking the shackles around her wrists and ankles. What was this? Were they letting her go just like that? What little hope she had was destroyed when she was shoved against a large wooden pole, and her wrists were tied together at the front of it with more rusted chains that dug into her skin. Adolfo then grabbed a bucket, splashing freezing cold water onto her back. She braced herself as best she could.

"Holding onto false hope, then? _Bene_, this shall be quick." Gemma clenched her eyes shut when the first blow came down on her flesh. An electrical shock of great magnitude blasted through her skin, and she cried out. The whistling of the whip as it came down again on her skin was a sickening thing, and she let out an agonized cry once again, wanting this to stop with everything she had. _No_, she screamed in her head, _I'm not giving up – not now_!

"What a nice sound. Did Auditore love it?" Cesare looked like he was viewing a mildly entertaining play, rather than a girl being whipped.

"Every time you lie to me, Gemma, you'll be whipped five times." Borgia informed her. "_Where_ is the Apple?"

"_Io non lo so_!" she barked, her voice hoarse. "I _don't_ know!" He sighed, and then the fire came back to her skin. She tugged futilely at her wrist bindings, the rusted metal cutting into her veins, just adding oil to the fire on her body. She heard the lash of the second one, screaming her contempt as tears began to fill her eyes, the blaze growing stronger by the second. Her strength was dwindling so rapidly, the more she tried with all she could muster to tug herself free of the binds.

"Do you see what has happened?" Rodrigo bellowed over the sound of the whip and the wild fire raging across her supple flesh. "The Assassin has forced you to this point – he played with your emotions, _he got inside your head_! And look what you've been reduced to? _All _because of _him_! Why protect him when it will only cause you pain time and time again?" She couldn't make much sense of the situation. All she could think about was how much she hated Rodrigo Borgia.

"_Vai al diavolo_!" Gemma shrieked, her eyes clenched shut through the warm tears. "_Accidenti a te_, _brutto porco_! I know _nothing_ of what you speak of!"

"Such impudence for the one that holds your life in his hands," Borgia observed darkly, laughing maliciously. "Ten more lashes for such a mouthy woman, Adolfo." The flames roared with life as Adolfo did his master's bidding. Why didn't he believe her? _How_ would she know about whatever the Apple was? She didn't, damn it, she _didn't_! Her flesh was going to tear off. She'd been forsaken by everyone and everything. Alone. No one. _Abandoned_. And for what?

The feud between Templars and Assassins.

She let out a strangled cry when the third lash sailed down to her spine, and soon the flames mixed with a strange, numb electricity that only made things worse. This was not her battle – why was she forced to endure this when she knew _nothing_? _Please, God, make this stop_. No answer. Of course. Why would He bother?

By the sixth lash, she was wondering how much skin there was left. Was she going to die? Probably. No one would care if she did. Ezio – she wanted Ezio to kick down the door, slaughter everyone, and tell her that everything was going to be fine. That she would be safe. That _no one_ could ever touch her like this again. But she knew that was even more ridiculous than hoping for God's involvement.

"Such a noble little warrior," she could barely make out Cesare's murmur over the fire. "If only you had done as you were told as a child. Maybe you'd be married by now." She screamed, her voice thick from the river of moisture flowing from her eyes. Die, Cesare. _Die_. Why did he have to be here?

By the time the ninth lash scraped across her flesh, her body had had enough. She coughed up blood from the sheer force. Once more, and even more blood came out. By the time Adolfo had finished, the iron smell of her blood was creeping all around the stone room. He undid her binds, and she crumpled to the floor, barely able to breathe, caked in sweat.

"What you have faced today is nothing compared to what's in store tomorrow if you do not tell me _where the Apple is_." He turned on his heel and disappeared out the hefty wooden door, leaving Gemma to be forced to her feet by a silent Adolfo and chained back up against the wall, the grime embedded in the stones mixing in with the blood dripping down her back. She couldn't think properly. All she wanted to do was simply disappear.

But when Alessio left, Cesare stayed. Staring at her with mocking black eyes that seemed skeptical somehow.

"Strange … your stubbornness has angered him," he remarked, smirking. "He isn't used to not getting what he wants – _especially_ when he uses this method."

"_Cosa vuoi_?" Gemma snarled, barely able to make out words.

"I believe you," he responded lithely. "You simply do not know." He had the most disgusting of smiles on his handsome face. Like he was above her.

"And you said nothing," Gemma hissed weakly.

"Do you think he would listen? As you have probably guessed, the Pope is a very sadistic man." There was the strangest glint in Cesare's dark eyes, and he took a small step closer to her broken form. "Tell me, Gemma, we have been speaking about Ezio's abandonment of you and whatnot … but has he even _taken_ you in the first place?"

Her face would have gone red if it wasn't for the exhaustion. "None … of your business."

"Ah, but it is," he disagreed gently, crouching down to one knee so that he was directly in front of her. "You see, you are never truly a man's _woman_ unless he's had you. It's common knowledge. And Alessio has claimed that you are – excuse me, _were_ – his woman in almost every way besides the good Christian way of doing things. It's my duty to see if he's lied to our Order." He separated her legs, and she sharply inhaled, feeling a dull burn in her lungs from the rapid action.

"Do _not_ touch me," she seethed, struggling against the shackles binding her. "I swear, I'll–!"

Cesare interrupted her with a soft laugh. "You'll what? Kick me? Your hands are bound, and you have no weapons. No hard feelings, hm?" His hand reached out, and trailed up the skin of her inner thigh. All of her energy crying out and rebelling against something she couldn't control was spent, and she simply slumped with the feeling of being a disgusting, used thing. His hand was smooth and cold when it began to travel in her most delicate of regions. She closed her eyes, finally letting out a sharp hiss when it started to sting like madness.

He let out a disturbing laugh, and she exhaled to herself when he stood up. "Of all the farcical things … _una vergine_! There is no way that Assassin wouldn't lay his hands on you if you were his woman. You're just a decoy, aren't you?" Her heart sank. A decoy. Was that all she was? "Well … the Pope will be interested to hear this. Alessio will, as well." And with that, he turned on his heel and strolled out the chamber, leaving Gemma to attempt to hold together what sanity she had left.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the wait! I, uh, got a bit distracted with a new story idea I have and all. Heheh, sorry about that. Nonetheless, it's here! I've never been that good at torture scenes, so I hope this one was decent enough, lol. With that said, I hope you leave me your thoughts and stay linked for the next chapter! :)**

** _Italian to English Translation:_**

**_Capella Sistina_ – Sistine Chapel.**

_**Messere**_** – Master (title.)**

_**Vai al diavolo**_** – Go to hell.**

_**Accidenti a te, brutto porco**_** – Damn you/drop dead, ugly pig.**

_**Cosa vuoi**_** – What do you want?**

_**Una vergine**_** – A virgin.**


	19. Inevitabile

**A/N: Just a quick shout-out to Era-Age, who's a good friend, an awesome writer, and the most fantabulous editor ever! Happy birthday, my friend. :)**

The Confidant

Chapter 19: Inevitabile

She had no idea how long she had been shackled to the wall. Time didn't mean much in such a place, and every hour seemed to awkwardly float by without her noticing. Gemma felt the life dwindling from her being, and at this point – what point was there? She could barely move. _Everything_ ached. She felt it was only a matter of time before her limbs popped off.

So hungry. So thirsty. So ready to just perish, forgotten in a hopeless, hapless little hole at the bottom of one of the most famous buildings in the country. Did she really have no worth anymore since she didn't let Ezio take the only ounce of purity she had left? Everything she'd worked for … it didn't mean anything now, did it?

The heavy door opened, letting in a painful amount of light. She let out a tiny hiss as her eyes stung, but she figured it was Borgia, there to inform her of the hopelessness of the situation.

Instead, she got an unfamiliar voice. "What … that man … he has gone too far." Suddenly, her face was being lifted by a man dressed entirely in red. His face was aged, pale, and gentle – but she had no idea who this person was. Gemma began to wonder if she was dead already. "How long have you been down here, child?"

"I … don't know," she rasped, her throat dry and aching at every word she had to speak. "Who are … you?"

"_Un amico,_" he answered quietly. "You must tell me – was it Pope Alexander VI that has done this to you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "_S … Sì_." The man sat and paused in contemplation for many agonizing moments. Finally, the crimson-clad man exhaled sharply.

"You must listen very carefully, child." The look on his face was grave. "I cannot help you more than unlocking your binds. The Pope is about to address the people, so many of the guards will not be on duty. It is _imperative_ that you are _not_ seen, do you understand? You must go down the hall, up the stairs, and find your way to the main entrance. The door will make a lot of noise, so as soon as it is open, you must slink into the crowd that is standing outside right now, _capisco_?"

"Why do you risk yourself for me?" Gemma demanded weakly as he took out a small iron key. "You do not know me."

"In the name of God, child. I have never approved of Rodrigo Borgia, nor did I vote for him," the man explained, his eyebrows furrowing. "He has turned a house of God into a place for the devil's work, and I will not have it in such a sacred place for our people!" She heard the soft _clink_ of her chains, and suddenly, she was one step closer to freedom.

But what would she do with herself in Roma?

Deciding that any place was better than there, she struggled to her feet, her teeth clenching as her limbs began to scream for rest. Due to misuse the entire day, she immediately fell to her knees, wincing softly. The man quickly helped her back to her feet. "I know how much pain you must be in, dear one, but you must not let that hinder your escape."

"_Grazie_," she whispered, throwing the biggest smile she could muster at the man, "you may have … just made me a believer."

He chuckled. "Well, that _is_ my job, is it not?"

"I will never forget this," Gemma vowed in the same hushed tone. "I will find a way to repay you, I swear it."

"Seeing you get out of here alive is enough for me," he disagreed. "Now – go! _Vá con Dio_, young one." She nodded once, rushing out the door as fast as she could manage. Her legsmoved of their own accord, despite how much her very bones ached – Gemma kept telling herself that she'd deal with her injuries as soon as she was out. The stone floor began to take a toll on her bare feet, but she didn't care – all she wanted was freedom.

She finally reached the spiraling staircase, and hoped that no one was going to check on her, as there were no hiding spots. It was by far the most difficult part of her flight. One stone step after another, her muscles cried out painfully under her skin. Gemma's teeth clenched in determination, and she forced herself to take every single step without so much as a single squeak of pain.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached the top floor, putting all of what energy she had left into her legs. She let out an unconscious hiss when her legs gave out for a few moments, and she stumbled to her knees under one of the magnificent paintings of the_ Capella Sistina_. She let out a near inaudible swear, her limbs trembling as she shoved herself back to her feet. So – _close_.

Gemma saw the massive door in sight, and she knew she was almost free. Almost there. _Grazie a Dio_, she was almost free. The door was just a crack open – but just enough for her to use what little strength she had to push. With one final glance backwards, she realized she wasn't alone.

Alessio was standing on the last step of the large staircase. Simply staring at her. His face was expressionless. The strangest, most sadistic smile flashed on his face for half a second before he began to stroll up the stairs. Gemma was confused at this, but she wouldn't take any chances. She had to assume she was exposed. She shoved against the door, and it made a loud creaking noise.

There was an entire sea of people in front of her, all staring up at the sinister man preaching about things he probably didn't even believe in. They didn't seem to notice the girl weakly weaving her way through them, attempting to appear invisible to the Pope with everything she had. The people that_ did_ realize she was there merely gave her looks, but that was the least of her problems.

Any moment now, she expected to drop. Her body had used up its emergency energy reserves, and now she was running on willpower alone. Nonetheless, she had to get out of this area. Away from Borgia. Away from everything.

* * *

Gemma stumbled through the streets of Roma, unaware of her surroundings and barely able to stand up straight. Her body was downright bellowing at this point, but somehow, she was still able to move. Not for long. Not too many people were on the roads at this time, as the Pope was still continuing his address to the citizens. The sky was gray and lifeless, with no hope of sun in sight.

At this point, she didn't care about that at all. Step after step, her body began to lose its resolve, and by the time she reached a narrow, abandoned alleyway, she fell to the ground, dragging herself so she could at least lean against the cold wall. The alley was dark, damp, and smelled of old urine, doing nothing but worsening the urge to vomit.

The pain in her body and the pain in her heart almost matched, and the cold feeling of brick against her skin only enhanced it. Her insides burned as she gritted her teeth against it.

She heaved a shaky, painful sigh, staring blankly at the dark red chain marks on her wrists. Absently, she ran her thumb over it, wincing slightly as the pressure on the wound stung. Her hair hung lazily in her face, concealing it almost entirely as her head drooped down, and it took her a second to realize that all of her wounds had been opened again, and blood was beginning to drip down her skin.

What use was there to care?

She was free. That's all that mattered, right? But … wouldn't they find her if she lingered in one place for too long? _All they'll find is a corpse_, she thought bitterly. At this rate, she'd definitely believe it. Her chances at survival without food, water, or medicine were zero to nothing. If she wanted to survive, she'd have to move and start stealing. To make herself a pathetic existence in the dark alleys of Roma. That sounded wonderful.

And considering the Pope's absolute power, if she didn't leave the city it'd only be a matter of time before his officials found her. She'd get sent right back to the beginning – and she'd rather die than face that again.

Gemma was done with trying to rebel from the constraints of her gender. She had enough with constantly being shot down simply because she was a woman. She was tired of everything in her life getting uprooted because of her love for an Assassin who didn't return those feelings – and probably never would. It was then that she decided to just give up, to marry whoever the hell would be stupid enough to take her in. She wouldn't say a word in argument to this man's most likely idiotic words. She'd cook, she'd clean, she'd have children.

Just like the rest of the world wanted her to be.

Of course, she had already forsaken this chance the minute she felt the need to expose the mysterious man who killed her father. It was hilarious, really. She'd denied her feelings for Ezio until the very end – and here she was, _at_ the very end, finally admitting to herself that she loved him – at the exact time where he decided to simply let her go.

It was far too late to do anything at this moment, anyway – and her body agreed with that. She wanted to sleep – and she could feel herself complying to this simple need.

Lifeless green eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

The morale was low. There hadn't been a single sign of her. Ezio's frustration was growing every single minute. The thieves were trying hard, but wherever she was, she was hidden well. It also didn't help that Drago felt the need to remind him that this entire situation was his fault. There was something about this city that made him uneasy, and Ezio, despite his current anxiety, was quick to notice it.

"You seem troubled," he commented dryly as they strode down a less crowded road.

He gave Ezio a glare. "I wonder why, _idiota_? Perhaps because it's already been damn near four days and we've made literally no progress!"

"You think I don't _know_ that?" Ezio snarled through his teeth. "I'm not giving up."

"Wherever Remus is, we're sure as hell not finding her around here," he pointed out darkly. "If she's still alive, she's probably fighting for survival." Ezio's hand clenched into an extremely tight fist. A hand came on his shoulder, and he met the calm eyes of Dario.

"Do not listen to him," he murmured. "Drago is as distraught as the rest of us, if not more. He's just being a child about it."

"Like hell I am!" Drago snapped in reply, his cheeks reddening a bit in embarrassment as he leered at him. "I'm just the most realistic out of all of us."

Elario rolled his eyes. "_Stronzare_," he sneered, "if you were realistic, then you wouldn't have spent your time bitching and focused on the mission at hand. It's giving me a headache."They continued bickering for the next few minutes, and Ezio walked ahead rolling his eyes. He froze when he noticed a small, red blotch sitting in front of him.

This was very obviously blood. Upon closer examination, it resembled the shape of a small foot. His eyebrows creased together, and he noticed a bit more of them, leading up to a dark alleyway. As he slowly began to follow them, a dark feeling welled up in his chest. He couldn't make it out, but it was … unnerving.

Ezio took a quick step back when instead of small footprints, against the wall there was a stain of blood as big as his fist against the wall that seemed to lead into the alley. He swallowed the lump in his throat, turning into the alleyway.

His sensitive ears immediately picked up on tiny fits of breathing.

* * *

Gemma could have sworn she was dead until her ears picked up on someone else's presence. Panic was threatening to make itself known in her mind, because her first assumption was that it was one of the Pope's men. She looked dead enough. She felt dead enough. They'd probably assume she_ was_ and move on with their lives.

And then she could feel a pair of fingers lifting her face up. Warm, familiar fingers. Safe fingers. Her body tensed a bit, but then all but froze in shock when she slowly pried her eyes open to meet stranger's face. God, it hurt to be brown orbs that had haunted her every nightmare were staring into her own eyes. They looked shocked.

God damn hallucinations. Wasn't she in enough anguish? Did she have to see _his_ face before she met Death's embrace? Painfully familiar hands cupped her face, and she was forced to stare into this delusion's terrified expression. "Gemma! _Gemma_ – can you hear me?"

She stared lifelessly at him – how did this aberration mimic his voice so well? "It's going to be okay, _cara_, I _swear_, you'll … you'll be fine."

It also figured out his tendency to lie. His trademark lies. Her heart twisted in her chest at the thought of it. But then, all of a sudden, an explosion of warmth wrapped itself around her like a snake. Arms, so powerful, so strong. The delusion took a breath as if it was going to say something – more sweet lies.

But the pain was too real for Gemma to listen. She let out an anguished cry, cursing herself for denying the warmth of the hallucination, but unable to stop the instantaneous blaze from tearing apart her insides. Her body couldn't cope anymore afterward.

The world darkened quickly, and as she succumbed to the blackness she heard her name being exclaimed into the air.

* * *

Oh, God.

"Gemma!" he barked, resisting the instinct to shake her awake. That would only make matters worse for her. _She – was – not – dead._ He did not go to such lengths to fail in one of the single most important missions in his entire life. Ezio Auditore da Firenze's targets _never_ died without his say so.

Her face is what killed him. Her eyes – the emerald green that was normally so bright and so spirited had lost all of its life. That life … being able to see it every day had always been able to uplift Ezio. Even if she was glaring at him, or even if they were stained with tears, they still shined more than the sun itself. To have that taken away all but stabbed him in the heart.

The color was washed from her face. She looked so pale … so near death. The white, ripped and tattered dress she was in only filled him with more fury. Only the sickest of bastards would dress her in such a way. It was like she was a holy sacrifice. A pure entity forced to endure immense pain for the good of a selfish, immoral devil. The fabric was stained with her blood. He pushed back his thoughts, realizing if he continued to think about it he'd drop everything and hunt every single person down. Cradling her as if she was the most precious gem, Ezio stood to his feet and listened intently.

Breathing. She was still _breathing_. Just barely – but she wasn't dead. Not yet. Not on his watch.

"You found Remus?" Drago's annoying voice snapped him back to reality, and Ezio looked up, only to see that they were all crowding around her. He reacted unconsciously; taking a defensive step back and glaring at them.

"She's alive," he grunted, keeping his composure, "but barely. I need to take her to a doctor and _quickly_."

"There are no doctors working today," Drago snapped at him, "the Pope is addressing the people, all places are closed."

"How do you know this?" Dario inquired, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

He looked away furiously. "Is it not common sense?"

"I don't _care_ about common sense," Ezio snarled, his hands tightening on her beaten body, "I'll kick down the door if I have to – _she needs help_."

"Ezio," Dario insisted gently, "yelling at everyone is not going to help her any further." Ezio cursed under his breath. He could attempt to steal medicine for her, but he knew very well that he wouldn't know how to use it, and the thought of leaving her with _anyone_ in this state was enough to make his blood boil. He could barely look at her without feeling the overwhelming need to rip something – or someone – apart with his bare hands.

"Find me some water," he barked instead, slumping against the wall and sliding to the ground as carefully as he could. With trembling hands, his fingers began to trace across her soft skin, thanking whatever deity that had decided to look after her when he could not, that she was still in one piece. Still, the tremendous weight of his failure was heavy on his shoulders. His inability to save her from the pain she must have suffered.

He buried his face in her hair, his teeth clenching at the weakest of whimpers that escaped from her mouth. It was one of the rare times that he felt utterly helpless. He couldn't do a thing to ease her pain.

And it was his fault to begin with.

"Ezio … the water." He looked up to see Elario hand him a small bucket. The Assassin thanked him with a nod, and then tilted Gemma's chin back so she could drink without choking. God knew how long it'd been since she'd had any water.

At first, she sputtered a bit, coughing up most of the water. His eyebrows tented together. "Come on, _cara_ – you have to." Much to his relief, she obeyed. He wiped off the excess moisture on her face with his thumbs, sighing. He knew that he had to examine her wounds, but there was a part of him that feared the outcome of his failure. Nonetheless, he willed himself to, and after a few moments he lifted her hands.

Thick red marks covered her wrists. Immediately, a nearly maddening murderous frenzy overcame him. How _dare_ they harm her? How _dare_ they even _touch_ her with their filthy Templar hands? She'd obviously been imprisoned … almost mercilessly so. By the gods, he'd rip apart any of them who even dared to come within two feet of her.

Alessio would be the first to suffer this fate. Ezio relished at the thought of his death being as slow and painful as possible.

"You seem deep in thought," Elario observed dryly from his position against a wall. "What are you planning?"

"Wondering how many resources I have in the city," he lied smoothly. "She needs a warm place to stay. She will only die out here." The thought made him inwardly cringe.

"I do not know of anyone here that can offer it to us without payment," he murmured, glancing at Dario. "And you, Dario?"

"This is the first time I've left San Gimignano," he answered with a frown. "I know of no one. Drago?"

He hesitated, turning away from their faces. "No."

"You were born here," Dario pointed out skeptically, raising an eyebrow, "surely, you have relatives somewhere in the city."

"They're all dead," he replied sharply, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the pavement. "Why do you think I left? I have no one." Ezio, considering his profession, was very skilled at being able to tell if someone was lying. One of the very first signs was if one refused to look at someone else in the eye. Drago was doing his best not to look at them.

He would have leapt to his feet and demanded the truth out of him if it wasn't for the precious object in his arms. His thoughts froze when she stirred.

And his heart wrenched when she cried out in the weakest, most faint voice he'd ever had the misfortune to hear. Ezio's eyes clenched shut when his lips upturned in the shape of a snarl. He bent his lips down to her ear.

"_Lo giuro_," he growled, "I'll kill them, Gemma. I'll kill _all_ of them."

_This_ promise – he would not break.

* * *

Three days had past.

Every single inn they could find was filled to the brim. No one cared that there was an extraordinarily sick girl in Ezio's arms. Doctors only glanced at her, proclaimed her to be a hopeless case they didn't want to waste time on, and went on their merry ways.

Ezio was on edge. He hadn't released her for a single second during all of this, and even though he refused to admit it to himself, his arms ached. As did his entire body. He hadn't had a good night's rest in days, barely ate anything, and only drank as much water as he needed to.

He didn't care about himself, though. He dreaded each passing minute that he could not find a way to help her, because she seemed to be getting paler and paler. Not once did her eyelids open a single centimeter. Her breathing was becoming more and more faint.

Dario seemed to notice his state. "Ezio," he looked tired, too, "give her to me. You must rest."

"No!" His tone was more feral than he realized. "No one touches her. I thought I already made that clear."

He sighed patiently. "Look at you – how can you protect her like this? You're only harming yourself by doing this."

"_No one touches her_," he repeated, emphasizing every word as adamantly as he could, "I cannot risk anything in regards to her safety."

"I'm also worried about her, _amico mio_," Dario reminded him lithely, "and I am as capable of protecting her as you are. You may think you must suffer to compensate for her pain, but that's idiotic. See reason, Ezio. The longer you do this, the less likely her chances of surviving are."

"And who are you to declare this?" He stood to his feetand gave him the most threatening look he could muster. "She is _my_ responsibility, _I_ say what's best for her. _You_ do not know her like _I_ do."

He didn't think it possible, but Dario glared him down to a point that he almost felt the need to back away. "You are jeopardizing _my_ leader's life because of your own foolhardy protectiveness, and killing yourself in the process. I will give her back to you once you've rested and regained some of your sanity. Now, _give_ her to me."

His tone was pure ice. Ezio swore under his breath, but carefully handed the unconscious girl to the thief. "If I find _anything_ wrong with her–!"

"Sleep, Ezio," Dario said with a roll of his eyes, "she will be as safe with me as she was with you."

* * *

Dario had been staring at Gemma's face for a long while. He could understand why Ezio was in such a manic state – she looked terrible. He almost felt bad about taking her away from him, but the man was driving himself insane. When Ezio was finally asleep, Drago and Elario returned, slumped against the walls of the alley they were lounging in and groaned.

Elario's eyebrows shot up when he saw Gemma in Dario's arms. "That _pazzo bastardo_ has actually let you_ hold_ her? Miraculous. I do not know how you do it, Dario."

"I have a talent," he said with a shrug, "either way, things … do not look good for her."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Elario asked, squatting against the wall.

Dario frowned, pushing aside some stray hair in her face. "She is fighting – I can see it. But I do not know if her wounds are infected. If they are … I fear the worst."

"And without shelter or sufficient food, the odds are against us," he added in a grunt, burying his face in his hands. "_Dio mio_, if she dies … I do not want to think about that." There was a long silence, and Dario glanced at Drago, who actually hadn't spoken a single word for a long period of time throughout all of this. It was suspicious. His companion's tanned face looked deeply troubled.

Finally, he spoke. "I know a place where we can take her."

* * *

**A/N: So. Much. Writer's. Block. O.e I'd start writing, then forget where I was going and just lose interest. Gah. I really need to stop overwhelming myself with so many projects. It's not healthy. XD Also, of course, thank you to all of my reviewers, who always make me smile with their words of help, encouragement, and so on. Thank you, and if you please, keep them coming, I love being so motivated to entertain you all! With that said, I hope you enjoyed and will tell me what you think! :)**

_**Translations:**_

**_Vá con Dio:_ Go with God.**

_**Lo giuro**_** – I swear.**

_**Pazzo bastardo**_** – Crazy bastard.**

_**Un amico**_** – A friend.**

_**Stronzare**_** – Bullshit.**


	20. Silenzio

The Confidant

Chapter 20: Silenzio

It took every ounce of his self control not to bury his hidden blade into Drago's neck the moment he realized that _all_ this time, she could have had a safe place to stay. He certainly settled with giving the immature bastard death glares. Other than that, he didn't speak a word as Drago led them to this place, for he was convinced that every curse word he knew would come spilling out. Still, a small glimmer of hope was manifesting in his chest at this. She had a better chance, now.

"_Bastardo_," Elario spat at one point, "we have been living on the streets like animals all this time and you do not think to _tell_ us of this place?" Drago didn't reply, only picking up the pace he was walking.

"It's your sister, isn't it?" Dario asked, though he was just as angry. He nodded once in reply, though still saying nothing.

"Sister?" Elario repeated, confused. "You have never told me that you have siblings."

"I knew Drago long before we met you, Elario," he murmured, running a hand through his hair, "he was born here, in Roma. His older sister lives nearby, apparently."

"Do not just announce my life's story," Drago finally grunted.

Ezio's grip on Gemma tightened ever so slightly as his temper flared. "You're _very_ lucky I haven't ended your life right here and now, _pezzo di merda_."

"You have _no_ idea what you're talking about–!" Drago began to growl, but Ezio quickly beat him to the punch.

"She – is – _dying_," he snarled furiously through clenched teeth. "But because you are a selfish _stronzo_, you don't seem to realize–!"

"_Because of you_!" Drago whirled, facing the Assassin with wild, furious eyes. "She is like this because of _you_, Assassin. If she dies, it is because _you_ failed to protect your woman – do not pin this on me." He felt a stab in his chest.

"She is not my–!"

Drago let out an obnoxious snort, gesturing to the girl in his arms. "How do you justify yourself then, eh? If you are too much of a child to accept that you have _strong_ feelings for Remus, then you are only going to hurt her more. Again and again. If she manages to survive this, it will not be the only pain she feels. _I_ am not the selfish _stronzo_ here."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Ezio's lower lip trembled, and silently, he handed Gemma's unconscious body to Dario. "Take her. Help her live. I must … I must be alone."

The Assassin turned on his heel, striding in the opposite direction, his head swimming and aching with the impact of everything he'd been suppressing all that time. He wasn't _allowed_ to love. It was a weakness, was it not? When Cristina was killed, he took it far harder than he expected. His judgment was clouded – his performance hindered.

A shiver tore through his body, sending electrical shocks through his system, at the mere _thought_ of Gemma dying – and it terrified him.

* * *

How in all the hells was she alive?

She could feel warmth on her eyelids as they hesitantly dragged open. Instantly, she regretted it, unconsciously hissing as her eyes rejected the sunlight.

Sunlight?

Her limbs still screamed with much ache – but it wasn't like before. She didn't feel herself being pulled into Death's embrace. Rather, she felt like she was slowly being pushed away from such an accursed feeling. Her eyes scanned over the bandages wrapped all along her body, on her arms, legs, and her torso.

She could have sworn she was dead. It felt like it. She drifted along in what seemed like an endless black hole for hours, occasionally hearing voices she knew she wasn't ever going to hear again. His voice and his face were still vivid in her mind – a taunt before she finally faded away.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Who …?

"_Buon giorno_, Gemma." Her eyes snapped to a beautiful woman standing at the doorway, and she instantly thought of Drago. The sandy blonde hair, the fierce hazel eyes … almost an exact replica. Who was this woman? "My name is Angelina."

Suddenly, a familiar face appeared, and her eyes widened in shock. "Gemma … I'm glad to see you awake." What was Dario doing here? She'd betrayed them. She was sure he hated her. "You frightened me, you know." None of this made any sense.

And if that wasn't enough, Elario appeared. "I see our sleeping _principessa_ is awake. Good." He strolled over to her bedside. "You drove us insane, crazy woman."

"She doesn't seem to know what you both are talking about," Angelina translated her scrambled thoughts, laughing. "Poor girl must be so confused."

"I can only imagine," Dario muttered, getting down to his knees. "Gemma … I cannot express how sorry I am, if only I–" She placed her hand on his mouth, shaking her head, smiling weakly. It wasn't their fault. It was her own weakness – and she'd been the one that lied to her best friends for two years. Still, she felt like she didn't deserve this kindness from them.

Elario crossed his arms across his chest. "I forgive you for lying; I can see why you would decide to do it. I would have done the same, had I been in your place." She nodded her thanks.

"It would be best you let her sleep," Angelina murmured, inclining her head to the exit. "Those wounds were infected – you should be getting a fever soon." She sighed shakily, nodding again. They all filed out of the room, leaving her to stare blankly at her bandaged hands. Slowly, she hoisted herself up into a sitting position, growling to herself as her bones disagreed with the action.

"Don't push yourself." She turned at the sound of Drago's voice. He looked uncomfortable – almost laughably so. Silently, he grabbed a chair and dragged it over to her bedside, sitting beside her. "_Co … Come stai_?" Her lips turned up into a half-smile in response. "Ah … _bene_, then … you were asleep for so long …"

He cleared his throat awkwardly as she stared at him, the words she wished to say locked away in her voice box. "You are still my leader, it … it was my duty, Re– … Gemma." She almost laughed, but settled with smiling ever so slightly at him instead. An awkward silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, but she felt no need to look away.

"I'm … sorry." Drago's eyes fell first, gluing themselves to the floor in shame. "For … for everything. I … if I just swallowed my pride … I could have _saved _y–"

She shook her head as quickly and vigorously as she could manage. _Nothing could have been done_, was what she wanted to tell him, but nothing came forward, so she attempted convey all of that through a look.

Unfortunately for her, Drago wasn't as perceptive as she was used to. He smiled nervously, standing up and leaving for the night. Her eyes lingered at the doorway.

* * *

Sleep wasn't possible. It was the middle of the night and she could not find any form of rest, no matter how hard she tried. The fever was ravaging her body, too. A slick coat of sweat was caked onto her forehead as she shook underneath the thin covers.

More than anything, she feared the nightmares she'd been having. She could still smell the rank, disgusting odor of the cell she was imprisoned in; the stench of death, blood and sweat all mixed together. She could still hear her own screams, the crack of the whip ringing in her ears as if she'd only heard it a minute ago.

And yet, despite that, she felt no tears. Gemma wondered if her heart was even still in tact. In an attempt to distract herself from succumbing to madness, she speculated what would become of her when she healed.

Would she just sit and waste away for the rest of her life, leeching off the kindness of others as she'd been doing for so long? She could not go back to San Gimignano, she had no home in Firenze, nor all of Italia. She could not even be a whore, for the scars she bore would turn anyone away.

_What man touches a woman who has a body marred by disobedience and farcical beliefs?_

_He has most likely forgotten that you even existed._

Rodrigo Borgia's words echoed in her head, again and again in a relentless attack on her sanity. Something came over her, then, and she somehow summoned the will to roll herself out of bed. Her limbs screamed and she cried out in the form of the tiniest of squeaks, but other than that, she struggled to her feet. With an awkward stumble, she grabbed a hold of the window sill and held herself there, staring up at the night sky, looking for an answer.

_What now_?

Silence. _What would madre think of me now?_ she thought, picturing the disappointed, disgusted expression of her mother. Why wouldn't she be disappointed? She turned slightly, facing a mirror on the opposite end of the room.

_Look at you_. Her mother's voice spoke in her head. _You think you're a lady? No. No man will ever have you now. You're going to live your life alone and forgotten because you refused to listen. Now, you've learned your lesson. You were never anything more than a girl – a foolish, delusional girl who thought she could go against society. Well, now _look_ at yourself. _Look_ at the consequences._

Her knees buckled and she stared at her trembling hands, no longer soft and dainty from when she did nothing with herself. They were rougher now, more muscled and unfeminine. Her body was wrapped in bandages but she knew the remnants of what she was lay hidden. Scar after scar of battles that had been won and lost.

On a man, they'd be something to be proud of. On a woman, they were disgusting.

_Disgusting_.

Suddenly, she felt her hand clench into a fist. She felt that fist connect with the glass of the mirror. Debris went flying everywhere and her knuckle was bleeding profusely – but that didn't seem to matter.

Gemma's legs gave out, then, and she fell to the wooden floor. She felt her knees tucking forward to her chest and she could feel every inch of herself growling and snarling. She didn't care, though. What use was there to do so?

And so she lied there among the discarded shards of glass, dry chokes coming up in her throat, but no tears to soothe them. Her body shook like that of a newborn child. She could almost feel herself beginning to tear at the seams, inch by inch.

"Get up, Gemma," the softest of whispers spoke in her ear, "get up, my darling." She lifted her head slightly to see a painfully familiar man standing in the corner. Abramo Rizzo.

Her father.

The death of whom, was the catalyst for everything.

"_Mia Gemma_." She accepted her madness, if it meant being able to see him at least once more. "_Ti voglio bene, _my darling, never forget that." And just like that, he vanished.

_Papa. Papa. Papa!_ Her body thrusted forward in desperation, her hands groping for the corner where he'd been for merely two seconds, bellowing its displeasure at such abrupt movement. Her hands fell, then, right onto the glass.

That was when the tears fell. One after the other, an entire river forming down her cheeks and to the floor. She could feel a scream bubbling up her throat – but it never came, as much as she wanted it to.

A thump snapped her back to reality, and she turned to see a hooded, dark figure near the window. Her instincts did two separate things – demand for a weapon, or rush to a corner. The latter was her only real choice, and she crawled like an animal over to the corner, every single move she made making her body ache even more.

_They've come back for me. They want to put me back in that cell_, she assumed incredulously, her eyes bugging out as the tears still managed to come. _No – no no no, no!_ Trembling arms attempted to shield her body from the stranger.

He took two long strides forward, every step making Gemma cringe. Then, he stopped and simply stared. She couldn't make out the features of his face in the darkness. An animistic feeling consumed her and her hand grasped onto a glass shard, ignoring the feeling of its sharp edges cutting into the palm of her hand.

She would never allow herself to get taken back to that dungeon without a proper, bloody fight. She didn't care how hurt she was – she'd manage.

Rough, warm hands grabbed onto her wrist and she cringed, wild eyes fixating on her attacker.

"Shh," the voice murmured, "calm down, _mia cara_, it's me, it's only me." Her eyes widened further in bewildered horror.

Her lips trembled, but her voice came forward. "Let – me – _go_." He didn't – his grip merely tightening further.

"Calm down," he said again, speaking to her as if she was a child, which in turn fed oil to the fire in her chest. She didn't understand why she was getting so angry – but it was coming forward in large waves. Whatever he was doing there, she was convinced Ezio Auditore cared not for her and the only defensive mechanism she had left was re-asserting itself.

"No!" she barked, thrashing weakly and awkwardly. "Don't touch me! Get away from me!" He wouldn't let go, further adding to her frustration.

He sighed heavily. "Stop yelling, you're going to hurt yourself."

Her teeth clenched. "_Let – me – go_, _lasciami_! " She swore to herself when he ignored her still. Her body ached so much she couldn't kick him away. The last thing she wanted was him around.

"Is this the thanks I get for saving your life?" he demanded darkly, and in the darkness she could make out the angry contortions of his face.

Her eyes widened furiously. "You let me rot! I found my own way out!"

"You were going to _die_ on those streets if I hadn't found you!" Ezio fumed, his hands growing tighter on her wrists. It hurt a good deal, but she wouldn't say it aloud. Not for him. She didn't want to give him such smug satisfaction.

"Why didn't you let me die, then?" she finally screamed. "All I've been is a burden to you and your mission – I've always, _always_ been the last thing on your mind." She felt so wound up, so furious, and everything she'd been keeping to herself over the years had welled to the surface.

"_What_?" he seethed. "_Sei matta_? All I've _ever_ done is keep you safe. I protected you, I valued your life more than my own!"

"You kept me under constant surveillance," she deadpanned, "if not you, then an associate or family member of yours."

"For your own protection!" he spat. "And it never did any damned good anyway, you still always found a way to run away from me."

"I am not a puppy that belongs to you!" Gemma countered, cringing at the sudden spasm of pain that shocked through her. "I can protect myself."

He audibly scoffed. "Clearly," gesturing to her body, "that is why you can barely move, I'm sure." She stiffened at his words, so confident, as if he knew exactly what had happened.

"You have no idea what happened." She tried so hard to keep her voice from shaking. "So do not speak so arrogantly, _bastardo_!"

"Alessio has always had a soft spot for you," Ezio declared in a tone she couldn't quite pinpoint to a certain emotion. "It could … have been worse. They probably went easier than they would have. I know of his feelings, they pro–!"

"Ezio," she interrupted him in a soft, dead voice, "please don't give me further motivation to kill you when I'm able to move again. Because right now, I'm contemplating shoving this shard of glass into your ungrateful, idiotic, moronic neck!"

There was a long pause, and then she saw him shrug. "You could never kill me, Gemma."

"I can if you_ dare_ suggest I didn't go through hell trying to protect _you_," she shook with raw, animistic fury and wanted to lunge at his throat. "_Everything_ I was put through, I didn't say a _word_ because – of – _you_!"

He didn't reply, so she kept going. "You're an ungrateful bastard and I want you out of my sight this instant."

"Ge–!"

"_Leave_!" she shrieked. "_Non posso ti guardo_! _Ti odio_!"

His teeth audibly clenched. "You don't mean that."

"I do. I should have told them _everything_!" her voice was thick with impending tears but her voice rose to a very loud scream. "_Ti odio, pezzo di merda! Ti odio, brutto bastardo_! _Ti – odio_!" Before he could reply, the door burst open and Ezio was shoved back by Drago and Elario.

"Watch it, _stronzo_," Drago snarled into Ezio's ear. "One false move and I kill you where you stand." Ezio didn't make a single move, simply standing and staring at her. She avoided his gaze.

Dario carefully reached his arms down and lifted her broken body into his arms.

"I do not intend to do anything," Ezio proclaimed blankly when Elario issued a similar warning to his life. "You both could never do anything fatal to me, anyway."

"Would you like to test that theory?" Drago snarled, seemingly ecstatic he could properly threaten Ezio without any consequences.

"Auditore," Dario turned toward the Assassin, his expression calm, "I suggest you leave. Quickly. The odds against you are three to one."

He laughed. It was devoid of life. "You are against me too then, Dario?"

"For my leader, I am."

"I will leave, then," he conceded darkly, "but Gemma has to order me away." A direct challenge. Her mouth turned down into a scowl. He knew how she was.

Bright, fierce green eyes stared down the lethal Assassin. "_Vá_, _Assassino_."

"As you wish, _Lupo_," he replied. "Tell me one thing – what have I done to become such a monster to you now?"

She didn't even hesitate. "You killed my father."

* * *

**A/N: Holy crap. Before you all violently murder me – the summer, plus school, has left me no time and inspiration for this all this time. I'm sorry, but it wasn't exactly something I could control. When I got my hands on Brotherhood, I was re-inspired – so I promise I'll be on top of this story for as long as I can, as school permits. So, hopefully you enjoyed and will stay with me!**

_**Italian to English:**_

_**Ti voglio bene: **_**I love you**

_**Principessa**_**: Princess**

_**Lasciami**_**: Let me go**

_**Sei matta? **_**Are you crazy? (feminine)**

_**Non posso ti guardo**_**: I can't look at you**

_**Ti odio**_**: I hate you**

_**Vá**_**, **_**Assassino: **_**Go, Assassin**


	21. Decisioni

The Confidant

Chapter 21: Decisioni

Weeks went by. Not a word was spoken to anyone since she ordered Ezio away. Her chest ached like it had been stabbed – and it wasn't even physical pain, a fierce, hidden regret burning in the pit of her heart that she tried to actively ignore. Every day was a lifeless blur as she sat and contemplated her fate. She was healing more quickly than she originally assumed and could basically walk on her feet without too much strain.

Dario rarely left her side. He'd give her all the space she needed and was there whenever she required anything. He was patient with her, understanding when she had violent outbursts and mood swings, always quick to snap her back to a rational train of thought.

Still, she could see it all taking a toll on him. Sometimes she would catch him staring out the window, a longing in his eyes to run, be free and to be a thief again. Gemma knew it all too well, because she shared the exact same sentiments. There was a difference, however.

He could easily return to that life.

She could never.

It ate away at her like a monster, the constant question of what she was going to do when she was healed ever present in her mind. Often, she'd glance at Dario and wonder if he knew what he was going to do. She wanted to ask him, but the words never came.

It was when the weeks turned into a month that she finally sighed sharply, a restlessness growing in the pit of her stomach. That night, she lied in bed with the usual nightmare, and when she snapped herself awake, her face covered in cold sweat, a single word stuck in her mind.

_Apple_.

Everything she'd been put through was for that one, single item. Ezio never really mentioned it or showed it to her, as he always kept it on his belt, close to him at all times. All that stress, all that toil for the small, round object covered in cloth. Gemma began to wonder how much human suffering it'd caused. The minds that had been lost to the power it gave mere humans. The lust for power bringing all to their knees to harness even a small bit of it.

What she had to do was then presented clearly in her mind.

_The Apple_. It had to be destroyed, then. For causing her so much suffering, for causing so many others so much suffering. Such power couldn't be left in the hands of mortals – it'd only cause more despair and madness.

The next morning, she sat in bed and stared at her hands, at a loss of where to go from there.

Dario seemed to notice. "Gemma … you seem troubled." She looked up quickly, shaking her head, feigning innocence. "You're up to something, I see it in your eyes."

_Damn him and his perceptive nature_, she thought bitterly.

She decided in that instant that she was going to need Dario. "I need weapons, clothes, armor, and a cloak. Do you think you could get it?"

"Yes," he answered immediately, a bit of excitement in his voice. "What are you planning?"

"Get me these things and I will tell you," she promised quietly. He nodded wordlessly and hurried out of the room. Gemma wondered why he was so eager and unquestioning … but it quickly dawned on her. He must have assumed she was going back to the thief life, to assume her role as Il Lupo again. She frowned to herself. _Impossible._

She slowly stood up and examined herself in the mirror. The old beginnings of muscle definition in her arm had faded. She'd been eating well enough but she hadn't been running or jumping. Gemma stared at her hair, now long enough to reach near her mid-back, and weighed the option of chopping it again.

She didn't know where she was going to go when she had the Apple, but it had to be far away. She had to find a way to destroy it entirely, and it had to be where no one would find it.

She wanted a purpose, and there it was. Her hands clenched into fists.

Gemma knew she could steal it from Ezio if she could catch him in a rare moment when he was off guard. She wasn't the ex-master thief of San Gimignano for nothing. She didn't have hidden blades or poisons – merely her own skill. It would be a risk to her own life, but she had no other choice.

"_Bastardo_, I should have killed him where he stood!" Drago stormed into the room and plopped onto the edge of the bed. The usual rants about his brother-in-law. Gemma paused and casually placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, then lowered his eyes. "He frustrates me." She nodded knowingly, at a loss for what to say.

The door opened after a few moments and Dario walked in carrying a large pile of clothing and armor. She grinned from ear to ear.

"Put this on," Dario said, placing it on the bed. "I have a feeling it could be a bit large on you, but we will have to see first." Drago looked severely confused as Dario ushered him out of the room. Gemma took a deep breath and began to dress.

The armor that Dario managed to find was made of light, but incredibly sturdy material. The clothing he brought was a mixture of black and gray that would effectively let her blend in almost anywhere – which was exactly what she needed. It didn't hug her figure, which would have been a dead giveaway, and instead created a more ambiguous appearance. The hood of the cloak covered a good portion of her face so that her identity would be hidden. There were many pockets and hidden compartments for weapons, which she appreciated greatly.

"Come in now," she called out to them. The two thieves opened the door and nodded their approval to the ensemble. Dario then brought forth a sleek, expertly crafted blade that looked like it could cost two arms and possibly a leg.

"Finest one I could find," he explained, handing it to her.

Although she already knew the answer, she felt the need to ask. "And you got the money …?"

He smirked. "I feel you know how." She returned the gesture and tucked the sword in its new, rightful place at her side. He handed her three daggers, which she placed at three different areas – hip, shoe, and chest pocket. Finally, he encased her fist in a metal cestus, which she flexed, feeling the heavy metal weighing down on her hand.

"_Grazie_," she murmured.

"_Di niente_," he replied, shrugging.

"Does this mean … we're going back to San Gimignano?" Drago asked, his voice practically breathless with excitement.

Gemma didn't answer, and Dario took the intiative. "It would seem so."

"Yes!" Drago exclaimed, his fists clenching with delight. "Finally, we leave this shit hole." He rushed out of the room to tell Elario the good news, and Dario quickly followed in suit. Gemma lowered her eyes, exhaling heavily.

She felt horrible, absolutely and utterly horrible, but nothing could be done. The city would never accept her with the knowledge that she was a woman. She had to leave Roma, but in a separate direction – and alone.

Her men decided amongst themselves that they'd be leaving first thing in the morning. Gemma knew she had to disappear without a trace while they were asleep. After Dario had gone to such trouble to get her everything – but she knew she wouldn't have been able to get them on her own.

She'd used the only person in the world she remotely trusted. Gemma scowled to herself at how despicable she was as she wrote the note for them to find.

_Amici,_

_ I cannot go back with you all. It's impossible – I would never be accepted again. I'm a woman, remember? Dario, you are to be the new Il Lupo in my place. Drago and Elario, you both are to be his right-hand men. If anyone dares disobey you, kill them. You three are the new law, and I have faith in your ability to uphold our city's strength. As for me, I have something to do. I'll most likely not make it out alive. Grazie – for everything._

_Mi dispiace,_

_Remus_

* * *

Dawn seemed to be in a few hours as she made her way down the silent streets of Rome. She had a very good feeling of where Ezio was, if he was still in the city. Although her knowledge of the land was practically nonexistent, she assumed the brothel was in the more wealthier district.

She wandered for what felt like hours until finally, she came across an elegant, flowered and clothed building. _Found it_, she concluded, scowering the building for some form of entrance. It was then presented to her in the form of a dim light in one of the upper levels. Ezio would be the type to stay out so late, after all – it was her best bet. She scaled the building, leaping onto the balcony of the room. Remus peered through the glass and her eyes locked on to her target.

He was there, alright. And with a courtesan. Seeing him again sent a painful pang to her chest, but she ignored it for more pressing matters. She quickly assessed, however, that he was wide awake – and cursed to herself when she realized that meant she had to wait a few hours until he was asleep.

"No need to be so gentle, _Messere_," she could, unfortunately, hear the courtesan murmur.

A low chuckle. "Do not address me so formally, Fiona – call me Ezio – did I not tell you this before?"

Fiona giggled. "Many men enjoy it when I address them like that, I assumed you'd be the same."

"I am not accustomed to being treated with respect by women as of late, actually." Remus scowled – an obvious jab at her. "But it'd bring us closer if we did not use such formalities, no?"

"Oh, I agree," she replied in a sultry whisper, making Remus cringe. It was then that their business began, and Remus had to sit through every solitary moment. Every sound, every cry, every removal of an article of clothing. Her teeth clenched together – and she felt absolutely ridiculous for having such a reaction to something completely expected of him.

Avoiding looking at Fiona and Ezio, her eyes searched and finally locked onto the Apple, which was a sphere under a pile of his clothing. Target spotted – she simply had to be patient. Ezio finally blew out the candle that was in the room – but the sounds only continued – and got louder.

Remus put her hands over her ears, rocking back and forth and attempting to keep her mind on other things. It didn't work when she heard the final scream; which sent a cringe straight up her spine. The pathetic feeling she had was infuriating.

After it had finally gotten silent, she waited for a long while until the sun was beginning to rise. With no time to waste, she silently crept in, as soundless as a phantom. Hands began to grope under his uniform for the Apple – while she did so, she swiped the smoke bombs in his pockets for later use. It was when she _did_ get a hold of the sphere wrapped in its case that she paused a moment to gape at it.

Remus could feel the energy coming from it. Foolish curiosity got the best of her, and she peeked inside the case – only to reveal a damn near blinding beam of light that shot through. She snapped it shut immediately, but it wasn't quick enough to avoid stirring the courtesan.

Remus concealed herself into the shadows as Fiona lifted her head, mumbling things to herself, half-conscious. She was so obnoxiously loud about it that it managed to wake Ezio as well. Remus took the time to glare at Fiona from her awkward position in the corner of the large room.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"I thought I heard something," she replied quietly.

"It was probably a nightmare," Ezio muttered, attempting to bury his face in a pillow. "Nothing could have gotten in without my noticing it." At that, Remus had to smirk.

Fiona yawned. "You're probably right, no one could have escaped such a powerful man's notice. I feel so safe with you, Ezio."

"And I you, _cara_," he responded – though in his half-conscious state, he wasn't very suave with his tone of voice. There was a long pause before both settled back to sleep, and Remus had to bite back a sigh of relief.

She took a tentative step forward. When she decided that all was well, she tip-toed as quietly as she could over to the exit. In her rushed haste, her palms had become sweaty, and the Apple had managed to slip out of her hands, falling with a loud thump to the floor.

_Thump._ "Who's there?" Ezio shot to this feet and Fiona followed warily in suit, covering her modesty with the sheets. As he bent over to the light the candle, Remus unsheathed her dagger, grabbed a hold of the courtesan and held it to the woman's throat. When the candle lit, his expression didn't even shift.

"Who are you?" Ezio demanded darkly. No answer, merely a warning by pressing the metal further into the woman's throat. She knew if she spoke, he'd recognize her. "Do not involve her in our matters – whoever has sent you has done so for me. Unhand her."

"_Bastardo_!" Fiona cried, though dared not move. "How dare you handle a woman in such a way!" The thief slowly bent down and grabbed the Apple, tucking it in her pocket.

"Of course it is the Apple you want," Ezio murmured to himself, chuckling maliciously. "Well? You have your prize. Let the woman go." _Oh no, Ezio, I know how you play_, Remus thought, her eyes narrowing as she took backward steps toward the glass doors. He took many confident strides forward, even reaching down for his sword.

"Ezio," Fiona's voice shook, "am I going to die?"

"No," he replied curtly, "I will make sure you are safe, Fiona." _What a lie – poor girl_. When they were both finally on the balcony, Remus moved quickly. She shoved the courtesan forward into Ezio's arms and threw the smoke bomb onto the ground. She had seconds before it would wear off, and so she leapt over the edge of the balcony and onto the ground, dashing off in the opposite direction toward a stable she'd taken note of.

Ezio was the only person that was faster than her that she knew of – which put her at a severe disadvantage. He was most likely barreling down the street after her. Using a horse would be too noticeable in the city – she had to find the exit and steal one from there. First, she had to get Ezio off of her trail.

"Do you think you can run from me so easily?" he cried, his tone arrogant. "Come, meet your fate, you cannot escape me." Remus knew the stakes at hand – if he saw her, he'd hunt her with relative ease. She had to utilize the darkness while there was still bits of it left.

Remus made a sharp turn down a narrow alley, her eyes locking onto a bridge that seemed to have the exit on the other side. She picked up the pace despite her exhaustion, and almost rejoiced when she reached the other side.

Almost.

He was standing there, smirking lightly. "Give me the artifact, and maybe I won't kill you." Remus returned the gesture, beckoning him forward. He took the challenge and she jumped onto the edges of the bridge. She did the same.

Remus was thinner and smaller than Ezio, and as he attempted to slash at her, it was easier to dodge. Ezio's larger size and heavier armor made him wobble in awkward imbalance, and in mid-stumble, she took the opportunity to kick him square in the stomach, and he plummeted downward into the river with a large splash.

She had no time to lose. As she positioned herself to run again, she noticed one thing – Ezio hadn't come up for air yet. After a long, agonizing fifteen seconds, she perhaps did the stupidest thing in her entire life. She dove into the river and found that he was simply sinking. Swearing to herself, she swam his body to a nearby edge, placing it up against the ridges of the small river.

It confused Remus greatly – Ezio knew how to swim. Remus quickly noticed the deep bags under his eyes, and she understood. He hadn't been getting enough sleep at all – and he didn't have the energy to even swim. She sighed quietly to herself.

"_Idiota_," she whispered. "I'm sorry it has to be like this." Unable to stop herself, she bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead, which made him stir and mumble incoherently. She removed her hood, adding to the illusion she was about to administer.

She could tell he wasn't conscious when his eyes dragged open. "Ge …?"

"Shh," she commanded softly, running a finger down his cheek, "sleep, _caro mio_."

"_Res … tare_," he mumbled in his dream-like state, _"con … mi._"

Her eyes clenched tight. "_Sempre_, Ezio." The lies she spoke burned her tongue the moment they left her lips. All for the illusion. She would be the only that would remember it – he'd just think it a bizarre dream and move on with his life.

Remus finally stood up and lifted her hood over her face. She wordlessly dashed to the stables, mounted a horse, and dashed off into the night, the Apple bobbing up and down against her aching chest.

* * *

**A/N: This came to me very, very quickly. Hopefully this didn't seem too rushed – I just needed to get these words out because after I watched HP7 pt. 1, I dunno, my ideas flowed a little better after such an amazing movie with such amazing creative stimulation. Hopefully, this slightly makes up for my hiatus for so long. Heheh.**

_**Italian to English:**_

_**Caro mio:**_** Dear, sweetheart (masculine)**

_**Restare con mi**_**: Stay with me**

_**Sempre**_**: Always**


	22. Solitudine

The Confidant

Chapter 22: Solitudine

It was late in the afternoon when she finally stopped riding, on a small hill just outside the small city of Frascati. She felt hollow as she dismounted her stolen horse, patting its nose as it snorted, strolling off to take a drink from the small stream nearby. Remus wanted to sleep more than anything, but within her festered an acute paranoia of anyone being able to come forth while she slept, slit her throat, and happily move on with the Apple in hand.

She glanced at a nearby tree, and decided it was her best bet. Carefully, she hoisted herself up onto the tallest branch and attempted to make herself as comfortable as possible. As she sat there, drifting in and out of consciousness, she held onto the Apple as tightly as she would her own child.

Unable to resist, she opened the case again and removed the metal sphere, cupping it gently in her hands. The metal was cold, despite being wrapped in warm cloth, and glowed an unnatural light in every single one of its crevices.

_This is what Borgia wanted?_ Remus ran her hand across the metal, shuddering as a strange pulse of energy shot through her again. She wondered about the full extent of the power the artifact had contained within it.

Remus blinked, snapping out of her reverie and shoving it back into its silk case. She knew that it had to be destroyed, or at least hidden in a place it could never be found.

The problem was, where could she ever find such a place?

She sighed to herself, frustrated and tired. She succumbed to her exhaustion easily enough and drifted off into the dark, forsaken abyss of her mind.

* * *

'_Silly woman – when did the thought you could cross me get into your head?' She stood before a dark figure. The voice was so distant, she almost thought it to be Borgia – or his despicable son, Cesare. He stepped forward into the light, and Ezio Auditore unsheathed his hidden blade, lunging at her._

_ When death didn't come, she opened her eyes. He stood directly in front of her, merely centimeters away from her, a smirk evident on his lips. _

_ 'Disobedient …' he whispered in her ear, 'misbehaved … dio mio what am I to _do_ with you?' She opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced when his hidden blade cut in a vertical line down her clothes, straight through to her skin. He ripped the layers off to reveal her naked form._

_ She desperately wanted to shield herself, but her body wouldn't move._

_ 'All of this,' he murmured darkly, 'it is mine. Every inch of you has belonged to me since the day we met … Gemma. Do not think otherwise.'_

_ 'I belong to no one!' she cried._

_ A malicious laugh. 'Do you truly believe that? Then why waste the time to rescue me when I could have drowned? We are bound, cara.'_

_ 'No,' she hissed, 'not anymore.'_

_ 'You will find your way back to me,' he vowed, 'and you will never leave my side, and in doing so, the Apple will rightfully come back to me.'_

_ 'It's not yours!'_

_ 'But you are.'_

* * *

She snapped awake, green eyes wild and filled with anxiety. _Un sogno, un sogno_, she chanted to herself. Remus knew that if Ezio found her again, he'd kill her for stealing the Apple. He was most likely seduced by its power, as many other men, and simply lunge at her throat with the hidden blade unsheathed, burying it into her skin and ending her entirely.

All for the Apple. All for such a small ball of metal.

Much to her relief, movement on the ground managed to snatch her attention away. It was a little boy, and he fearlessly ran over to her horse to stroke its nose.

"_Un cavallo_," the boy exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes as he patted the nose, "I've always wanted one … but _madre_ wouldn't just let me bring home a horse." Remus watched curiously as the child narrated his thoughts aloud.

With bright blue eyes and a shaggy head of light brown hair, he greatly resembled Alessio. She judged by his tattered clothing that he came from either a poor, or farming family. He turned to leave, but glanced up at her on the tree branch first, jumping back in shock.

He didn't flee, like she expected him to. "Who … are you?"

"A traveler," she replied quietly, "and yourself?"

"My name is Juliano – Juliano Conti!" He dashed forward to stand directly under her, big, fascinated eyes staring up at her cloaked figure.

"Nice to meet you," Remus responded, "but I think it best you go home, Juliano Conti."

"How can I go home when such a strange person is just sitting in a tree?" He looked confused as to how Remus could even suggest such a notion.

She sighed. "Did your _madre_ not tell you that talking to strangers is very dangerous?"

"She did," he confessed, shrugging, "but you wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

"How can you be so sure?" Remus countered mysteriously. "What if my sole intention was to kill you, hm?"

He scoffed. "You cannot kill me! I'm far too skilled."

Remus' eyebrows raised. "Oh?" _Such arrogance. How familiar_. She leapt down to the ground, standing up straight. "Are you suggesting you could win in a fight against me?"

"Of course!" he boasted proudly, hands on his hips. "But that's not fair! You have armor on one of your hands!"

"I won't use this hand," she promised. He grinned, unleashed his own little battle cry and barreled toward her. She smiled, stepping lightly out of the way as he missed her by a long shot. He whirled on his heel.

"Hmph!" he exclaimed. "You won't be so lucky this time." He did the exact same thing as before, and she casually stepped out of his way.

"You're far too loud," she advised him, "a good fighter does not simply announce his attack to his opponent – he takes him by surprise. Discretion is key."

"Teach me how to fight!" Juliano demanded all of a sudden.

"I thought you said you could beat me?" Remus asked innocently.

He pouted. "Okay, fine … maybe I exaggerated a bit." She laughed, throwing her head back.

"Unfortunately," she continued, "I cannot teach you. You're too young to use such skills in the first place, Juliano. Savor your youth."

"You talk like my father," he whined. "I am ten years old, I am a man!"

She stifled a small chuckle. "A true man knows when he must wait. Patience will get you the best things in life." _If only I could follow my own advice_.

"Do _you_ consider yourself a true man?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really," she answered, shrugging. "I've always been a bit impatient."

"Your voice is strange for a man," Juliano pointed out, "it's a bit womanly." _Sharp child_, she assessed, wondering if he could put two and two together. He opened his mouth to speak again when a projectile sped through the air, landing not five feet from her.

An arrow.

Instantly, she looked ahead to see a small band of figures clad in white riding towards her. In the center, the outlier donned black, and she knew who it was immediately. She cursed herself for putting such an innocent child in so much danger.

"Juliano, do not say a word and listen to me," she hissed tersely. "We're going to get on my horse and I'm going to take you home. You have to guide me there, do you understand?"

"Y – Yes," he replied shakily. She dashed forward and swung onto the horse, grabbing his hand and doing the same with him. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"_Ha_!" Remus cried, and the horse sprung into immediate action, dashing down the road and towards the city. The atmosphere was tense as she just barely avoided crossbow arrows and throwing knives. She could somewhat make out shouted commands, but otherwise ignored them, focusing on the nearing gates of the small city.

The horse flew through the gates of Frascati, startling the guards manning it. Remus put a halt to the horse in the middle of a small market place near the entrance and grabbed a hold of Juliano's hand. He pointed north and she wordlessly dashed off with him in tow. He couldn't possibly keep up with her, so she was practically lifting him off the ground. Remus safely assumed his house was in the poor district. She risked a glance backward to see them hot on her trail. She swore and pulled Juliano into a tight alley.

"Get on my back." If she was going to lose them, then she needed to free run, and she couldn't do that simply hanging on to a child. He draped his arms around her neck as she pulled herself up onto the rooftop above. Surveying the area, her eyes locked onto a small rooftop garden. _My only hope_, she decided, leaping over to the nearby roofs, half-focusing on making sure Juliano didn't fall off and plummet to the ground.

Hastily, she threw herself and the child into the garden and placed her hand over his mouth. Her eyes narrowed as she watched two of the men after her pass their hiding spot, halting her breathing.

"_Merda_," the first man growled, "the _bastardo_ is like a phantom."

"If we do not find him, _Signor_ Ezio will not be happy," the second added in.

"This man works for the Borgia, does he not?" the first asked. "What I do not understand is why he would go in the opposite direction of Roma."

"Do you think I have an answer to that question?" the second barked. "It does not matter, anyway – whoever he is allied with, it is not _Signor _Ezio. We find the _ladro_, and bring him to Ezio – these are our orders." _So they are not supposed to kill me outright?_ Remus wondered, shuddering to herself.

"It would help if we knew what his habits were," grumbled the first. "Are you sure he has no idea who the thief is?"

"Were you not next to us the entire time?" The man promptly whacked his companion's head. "_Idiota!_ We know nothing of this phantom, he stole the artifact in the middle of the night, so Ezio could not make out many of his features."

"You do not have to be so violent," the man sniffed. "We better search the entire city. He cannot have fled so quickly – it is not human." And with that, they left. Remus exhaled with relief and waited for a long while until they were well out of sight. Finally, she lifted herself and Juliano out of the garden.

There wasn't much time. "Go home, do you understand me? Do not go outside until tomorrow morning."

"Why are those men after you?" he demanded, more curious than he was angry he'd been shoved into the situation. "Are you a thief?"

"And if I am?" she deadpanned. "I warned you not to speak with strangers."

"If you are a thief," he mused to himself, pursing his lips in thought, "then you are the strangest man I have ever met. My mother told me all thieves were despicable and murderers."

"Some of us are," Remus agreed. "But then every human is different. No group of people are exactly the same in thought. Sometimes we resort to thievery because we have no other choice. Do not judge a man by what he must do." She quickly realized the time she was wasting. "I am going to take you to the ground, and when I do, you are to run home."

"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I want to help you! Come to my house, we can keep you safe."

She couldn't help but smile a bit. "Juliano, that would put your family in too much danger – I appreciate it – but there _is_ something you can do."

"Tell me!" he exclaimed eagerly, clenching his fists in determination.

"Amongst the men after me, there is a man dressed in black. You cannot miss him. He has a belt of weapons and … a ridiculous outfit. He is the one they call Ezio, and he is after my head. I want you to cause the biggest scene possible right near him. Tell him you saw me stealing from others, and tell him you saw me fleeing in the direction of the southern exit." She was headed northwest, so it would give her time before he caught on.

"It will be done!" Juliano said happily.

She smirked and patted his head fondly. "Good boy. Do not worry about any danger, I will be in the shadows making sure you're safe when you carry out this mission."

He rolled his eyes. "How dangerous can one ridiculously dressed man be? I can do this with my eyes closed!"

"That is what I like to hear," Remus replied, crouching down for him to get on her back. Once they were on the ground, she shooed him off and he dashed as fast as he possibly could to get to the town's center. Remus followed, concealing herself as expertly as she could. Two years of being Il Lupo did not go to waste.

"_Aiuto!_" Juliano cried as soon as he was in the center. "_Aiuto_! _Un demonio negro_!" She observed from the shadows as no one stopped to even pay him any heed. She scowled to herself, but didn't make a sound. Ezio and his men were sure to notice that. "_Aiutami! Uno demonio negro!_"

Right on cue, Ezio and two right hand men strolled up to Juliano. "What's this about black demons, boy?" She watched Juliano stiffen in fear, and she didn't blame him – but Ezio would never lay a hand on a child. He was too proud, had too many morals to do something so horrible.

"I – I saw one just n – now, _signore_." Juliano's voice shook in fear. Very much unlike how he was in actuality. _Quite an actor, this one,_ she thought to herself, smirking.

"Where did you see it?" one of Ezio's men demanded.

"Near the south entrance of the city, it even stole my family's horse!" the boy told him with big, fearful blue eyes. "He just … jumped over me and – and almost stole my soul!"

Ezio's expression didn't shift. "You wouldn't be lying about this demon, would you, boy?" She silently cursed to herself.

Juliano looked absolutely scandalized. "Why would I lie about this? It almost _killed_ me, _signore_!"

"_Va bene_," the Assassin said. "You just go home, my men and I will take care of the demon."

"Oh, _molto grazie_, _signore_!" Ezio walked past Juliano with his men, and the coast seemed to be clear until a single, shouted phrase rang out into the market place toward him.

"I found him! I found the _ladro_!" Remus looked up in horror to see a thin man on the rooftop above her. She had exactly five seconds to decide what she was going to do. A smirk flashed on Ezio's face and he turned toward her hiding spot. She felt like the biggest idiot in all of Italia for allowing her guard to drop in such a manner, and now she was going to pay dearly for it.

Unsheathing her dagger, she kicked off the ground onto the rooftop and came face to face with the man who'd exposed her.

"This game is over," he murmured, smiling sweetly.

"Not until I say it is." Remus was quick, ramming the small blade into the man's gut and cringing to herself at the noise he made upon impact. She grabbed his body as it slumped and hurled it over the edge of the roof, temporarily distracting her pursuers. She belted forward, dove into a pile of hay and emerged on the ground with racing heart.

She could trust no one in the city. Any and every person could be allied with Ezio, and it could simply lead to disaster. Luckily for her the sun was setting, so the shadows of which to conceal herself in were growing larger with each passing minute. She made a beeline down the darker alleyways of the city, eyes darting in all directions for any signs.

Just then, her muscles contracted in pain when she felt something horribly sharp go straight into the back of her left arm. She could feel it – a throwing knife. It both meant that they were close, and that they were gaining on her. Remus swore to herself, with no time to remove it from her flesh, and picked up the pace at which she was running, making sure to make as many confusing sharp turns as she possibly could.

But she was getting tired. Spending a month bed ridden hadn't helped her stamina, and her chest heaved with the strain of so much physical activity in so little time. Just as she could feel her legs slowing down, she felt a sharp force tug her directly to the side.

When Remus opened her eyes, she was surrounded by two dark figures. Her hand wandered to the hilt of her blade in the event of an impending fight, but when the area fell silent, someone lit a candle in the corner and the light revealed to be two kind-faced people staring at her.

"You can thank me later," Juliano boasted with a proud smirk on his face. Remus blinked, guessing that the two adults before her were his parents.

"_Madonna, messere_ …" Remus murmured, bowing her head, "I thank you for going to such trouble for me but this is far too dangerous–!"

"Now, now," his father halted her formalities with a wave of his hand, "no need for such talk. I have brought you to my house because my son seems to think quite highly of you. And judging by the state of you, something very unfortunate has befallen you."

"You protected my son," his mother pointed out. "And for that I am in debt to you."

"Your son only needed protection because of what plagues me," Remus shot the compliment down quietly. "Otherwise he would have been safe and unharmed. My being here could endanger you greatly."

His mother offered her hand to Remus, which she took hesitantly. "You jeopardized your escape by making sure my son was protected and returned home safely – I do not mind a little danger."

Remus sighed, scratching the back of her head. "You give me far too much credit, _madonna_."

"And you do not give yourself enough credit," she countered softly, smiling. "Tell me, what is your name?"

Remus began to speak when the father spoke up. "Do not interrogate him so quickly, Mina. Let the man rest, he must be exhausted."

She was. "I could sleep outside–"

"Nonsense!" he cried, almost appalled she would suggest such a thing. "Outside is for beggars and animals. You sleep inside like a proper human being. In Juliano's room."

"_Dio mio_!" Mina exclaimed, rushing over to her arm, which still had the knife embedded in. "Why did you not speak of this? It could get infected if it is not treated correctly! Come, come." She grabbed the thief's wrist and led her into a small room. Mina rushed to a corner and brought forth a small box filled with medical supplies.

Her eyebrows raised. "It … is really not necessary–!"

"If you continue to be so frustratingly polite, I might have to slap you." Taken aback by the woman's comment, Remus did not reply. "I am not used to such manners – where are you from?"

Remus hesitated. "Fi – Firenze."

"So far away," she mused aloud, "what brings you to Frascati, of all places?"

"I have … business." Mina laughed softly.

"I see that is code for 'none of _your_ business', _si_?"

"N – No, _madonna_–!"

She laughed again. "Calm down, calm down. I am only joking. Now, this is going to hurt a bit, but I have to stabilize the knife, and make sure that when I remove it, it does not cause further damage."

"How do you know so much about medical procedures?" Remus could not help but ask.

Mina chuckled. "Does it surprise you because I am a woman?"

"Not at all," she replied quickly – a bit too quickly, "it's just that it's uncommon that a _dottore_ would even attempt to teach you."

"My father was a renowned doctor, as a young man he was hailed in Roma, and since he did not have any sons, he taught me quite a bit of his practice to simply pass on the family secrets." Remus' teeth and eyes clenched together in pain as Mina gingerly began to dislodge the knife from her flesh. She did not utter a single sound as it happened.

Finally, it was out, and the woman carefully rolled up Remus' sleeve to clean the wound and apply a bandage. It was silent for a few moments.

"_Grazie_," Remus said.

"Try not to strain it too much for a few weeks, hm?" The woman gave her a maternal smile. There was a long pause. "Do you feel more inclined to tell me your name?"

"Remus," she replied quietly.

"Quite unfit for such a beautiful woman." Remus' eyes snapped up to meet Mina's, and she threw her head back and laughed. "No need to be so terrified, I am not going to shout it to the heavens."

"How did you know?"

"For two reasons." Mina pushed back Remus' hood to reveal her face. "Far too pretty to be a man – the eyes are a dead giveaway. And the way a woman's shoulders and body are set – it's quite different from a man. We have more of a pear shape. It was wise for you to wear such baggy clothing to help hide it."

Remus lowered her eyes. "You are wise beyond your years, _madonna_."

"I could say the same for you," she added, her smile growing. "You seem to have realized the severe disadvantage our gender has in society today."

"I realized it long ago," Remus murmured.

She laughed once more. "No doubt."

"_Madonna_," she said at one point, "it would be best if Juliano did not know about this. I am sure he'd lose respect in me."

"I have raised my son with the belief that men and women are quite equal, do not worry for a moment about that." She puffed her chest out in pride. Remus laughed. "I can safely assume your real name is not Remus?"

She evaded the woman's gaze. "My real name … it's not relevant to my life right now. I am Remus to all but … a few people."

"Very well, very well," Mina conceded, putting her hands up in defeat, "I will not push further."

* * *

"You're a fool if you think I'm letting you go out like that," Mina proclaimed, crossing her arms across her chest the next morning. Remus stood there, confused, as the woman blocked the exit. "I'm _positive_ your enemies are waiting for you at each and every exit of this city, and since it is daytime, your clothes are a dead giveaway!"

"I don't have much else," Remus argued quietly. And after all the trouble Dario went to to put the entire ensemble together, it would be a waste to just stop wearing it. Though, she realized the woman had a point.

Mina grinned. "But I do." And so began the agonizing transformation back into a woman. Despite her complaints, the woman wouldn't hear a single word of it, countering that if she was going to be a proper woman then she needed to use every single one of her assets. "Parading around in that getup … it just screams 'attack me'!"

Remus was feeling stupider every passing moment. "I … had to protect myself."

"No man would willingly attack a woman," Mina informed her matter-of-factly as she plowed a comb through her knotted hair, "it both counters many morals, and receives quite the social stigma. They think us weak, helpless creatures. Utilize it to your advantage."

Her eyebrows knit together. "I have the necessary skills to fight, why would I do something like that?"

"I never said you did not, child," she replied patiently, "but why fight when no one provokes you? No matter what you do, men will think us insignificant. Injuring one's self to prove a point is foolhardy. Changing a man's opinion is about as difficult as teaching a deaf person how to hear. Useless and frustrating."

"I see your point," Remus muttered.

"It is _when_ you are directly challenged, or there is a threat to your life, that you showcase your hidden skill and leave all those around you speechless in awe. A time and a place, my dear."

"What of my weapons?"

Mina laughed. "A violent one, aren't you? Keep a small dagger somewhere tucked in your dress for emergencies." _And what of the Apple_? Remus thought, scowling a bit. Obviously, she needed to find a way carry it without bringing attention to herself– but how?

She exhaled sharply when Mina shoved layers of dresses on her body. She had not worn a dress since she was in the _Cappella_, and she inwardly cringed at the mere thought of it. Despite her having the purest of intentions, Remus was sustaining a cringe whenever she touched her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she was done, and turned Remus towards a mirror. "Now they will never find you."

Remus blinked as she inspected herself. Her hair had been tamed after a painful combing session and fell to neat little waves at her shoulders. Her bangs framed her face more nicely than she expected. The dress Mina put on her was simple, red, and adorned with a delicate floral design.

A small smile tugged on her lips.

* * *

She had a strange, newfound confidence as she exited the house of the Conti family. Although Juliano was greatly confused when he first saw her dressed like a woman, after Mina explained, he seemed to accept it without _that_ much of a fuss.

"You should be safer now," Mina boasted confidently, smirking. She thanked them and saw to it that all of her belongings were saddled securely onto the horse for the long journey. They gave her extra bread, as well.

"Farewell, Remus."

She paused, turning around. "Gemma – my name is Gemma."

* * *

**A/N: Gemma's just getting more and more obvious, eh? Ha! And for those of you anxious for Ezio and Gemma's reuniting and whatnot, I ask that you remain patience. I try to be ambiguous with it buuuut it'll happen. I just won't tell you when, why, or how. HEHEH. It's the evil in me.**

**And also, I'd like to say – Brotherhood is so ripe for story-telling I just had to continue the story on with that plotline. However, it's going to be through a sequel. I'll tell you all when it's the last chapter, but yup, Gemma and Ezio are going to Roma. Fun stuff. ;D Okay, enough of my babbling – stay linked!**

_**Italian to English:**_

_**Un sogno: **_**A dream**

_**Un cavallo**_**: A horse**

_**Madre: **_**Mother**

_**Ladro**_**: Thief**

_**Aiuto**_**: Help!**

_**Un demonio negro**_**: A black demon**

_**Aiutami**_**: Help me!**

_**Dottore**_**: Doctor**


	23. Frutta

The Confidant

Chapter 23: Frutta

Mina's assumption was spot-on. There were men scowering the rooftops all above her, searching for the phantom that had robbed their leader of his precious artifact. She suppressed a content smile as she neared the north exit, a man leaning against the brick of the wall with a bored look on his face.

As she passed him, his eyes locked on to hers, and he smirked. "_Madonna,_ don't you think it quite dangerous to venture out into the countryside all by yourself?"

"Thank you for your concern," Gemma murmured politely, "but I think I can handle myself just fine."

"Your bravery is admirable," he remarked. "Tell me, where are you headed?"

_Nosy bastardo_. "That, I am afraid, does not concern you."

He laughed. "Fair enough. Before you leave, I'm required to ask you – did you see a man dressed in very dark garb? Almost like a phantom. He has stolen something very valuable and my colleagues and I intend to hunt him down and take it back."

"Unfortunately, I have seen no such man." _No such man exists_. "But I wish you luck in your search, hopefully justice will show itself."

"Indeed," he mused. "_Buon viaggio_, _bella_." Just as she straightened the reins to kick the horse back into gear, a voice stopped her.

"Ernesto!" Ezio. Her heart skipped several beats. "Have you got anything?" _Move, idiota_! she thought internally, commanding her frozen body.

"No, _Signor _Ezio, I have been standing here for hours and there has not been a single sign of that _pezzo di merda_." Ernesto sounded quite frustrated.

Ezio groaned, but she didn't dare turn around. "And who is this?"

"She is leaving the city, but to where, remains a mystery. I already asked her if she has seen anything and she said no."

"Oh?" Gemma clenched her eyes shut tight as he took steps towards her. "Are you sure you saw nothing, _madonna_?" She shook her head. "Why do you not answer me?"

Ernesto chuckled. "You _are_ quite intimidating, _Signor_ Ezio, no wonder she has been frightened into silence."

"That was not my intention," he apologized smoothly, strolling over and taking her hand to kiss it. "_Mi dispiace_, I only ask out of …!" Ezio stopped in his tracks and sharply inhaled in what seemed to be horror. She made the mistake of accidentally meeting his eyes.

"What is it?" Ernesto demanded.

"It …" he looked at a severe loss for words, and she took that opportunity as quickly as she could.

"You have delayed me long enough, _messere_," she said quickly, snatching her hand from his grip and snapping the reins. She was careful not to gallop away full throttle, which would be a dead giveaway to her identity. She sincerely hoped Ezio assumed that he was hallucinating.

Gemma did not dare look back as she trotted down the road, her hands clenching tightly as she held onto the reins of the horse. _What a reaction_, she thought. _He must despise me at this point, and I do not blame him for it._

The sun was high in the sky, and she decided in her aimless wandering that she would return to Firenze for a little while. She did not understand her urge to do so, but she figured that it was the safest option – and she also longed for familiar territory.

She was fairly sure she was going in the right direction and attempted to keep her mind on other things. If she wandered mentally, it would not be healthy.

* * *

It was early in the morning when she reached the familiar gates of Firenze. She was let into the city without a hassle and let her eyes sweep across her birthplace. As she dismounted her horse and swung her bag of supplies over her shoulder, she noticed that it even _smelled_ the same.

Despite her past there, it was where everything began, where her fate had been decided. Gemma wandered into the town square and past Leonardo's workshop. One of the closest friends she'd ever had – she wondered where he was at that moment, what amazing things he was accomplishing with his ingenious mind. It looked like it hadn't been used for years.

She descended some steps and ended up in front of the old Auditore house. It seemed to be untouched by the government – even the family crest was still placed proudly above the entrance. She turned and walked on, her feet eventually leading her in front of her own house.

The door was open, and she ventured forward. The living room was the subject of neglect and cobwebs were draped in every available corner of the ceiling. Her chest felt heavy as she had flashback after flashback of her life in that house. It was a simpler, peaceful time.

She slowly trailed up the stairs to her room and did a double take to realize nothing had changed. It remained untouched – she doubted anyone had come into the chamber after her so long ago. Her fingers ran over the smooth wood of her dresser, collecting dust on the tips. With a powerful jolt, she opened the drawers to see all of her dresses tucked neatly away.

_Why did my mother not sell them for money_? she wondered, growing a bit angry, despite having no control over the situation. If the bank were ready to take the house, then why did she not sell whatever was not needed? _Dwelling on the past will not get you anywhere, Gemma_, she quickly told herself, closing the old drawer quickly.

She then turned and walked into her father's study, also untouched by the outside world. Gemma wondered what he'd think of her if she told him of all that she'd done in her life so far. She wondered if he'd be disappointed at not being married to a man with a solid career, with children of her own.

Now there was absolutely no hope for such a belief. No man would ever take a woman with such a marred body. Ezio had more than once remarked on how difficult she was – what kind of man would go to such unnecessary trouble? And without a family name, she had nothing.

"Why are you thinking about such idiotic things?" Gemma demanded to herself, exhaling sharply. Out of curiosity, she opened one of the drawers in his desk to reveal a rather large pouch. She lifted it and immediately discovered quite the amount of florins within. She silently thanked her father and tucked it in her small bag. It would come in handy in the coming days.

Perhaps she could find herself a decent inn to stay in until she tired of Firenze. Feeling no need to visit her mother's room, she descended the stairs and went back out into the city.

Her arm still ached a ridiculous amount, but it was not anything she was not used to at that point. As she walked the streets, eyes roaming the landscape, she found herself strolling past the _Palazzo della Signoria_, her eyes landing on a familiar face.

He looked relatively wealthy, her old fiancé, his arm around a glowing, mediocre-looking woman with a large, obviously pregnant belly. Cecilio Birocella – although her memory of his face was fuzzy, she could still make out his familiar, unimpressive features from before she'd been taken. His eyes were a bit too big for his face and his nose made her wonder if he'd been a bird in his past life. She watched as he and what she presumed to be his wife chit-chatted, smiles on their faces.

In that split second, she pictured herself as Cecilio's wife. She had never attempted to cross Ezio Auditore, her father's murderer. She did as her mother had wanted her to do and married him. Her mother would be alive and an old, graying biddy who spent the day complaining about little, insignificant things while grandchildren ran about the house. Gemma Birocella would be bored, but she would be safe. She would not know of the existence of Templars and Assassins, how to scale walls and run across rooftops, or even how to fight.

She would be a simple, silent housewife without a care in the world and children to raise. The mystery of her father's death would remain untouched and swept under the rug.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she pictured it so vividly in her head. Soon, though, that vision was replaced by the positive moments in her time away from Florence. She had learned how to speak once more, and she'd made some of the best friends she could ever ask for. There was heartache, but Gemma knew herself too well – such a quiet life was not for her.

_But you would know no other life than a quiet one, had your fate turned out like any other woman?_ a tiny mental voice whispered.

She turned with the intention of walking off until a voice called out to her.

"_Scusi_, _madonna_!" Cecilio looked like he'd just seen a ghost, staring at her with large, brown, and astonished eyes. "You … –!"

"It is nice to see you, too, Cecilio," she said, smiling politely. His wife seemed to be looking at dresses at a nearby tailor's shop.

"_Dio mio_, Gemma Rizza, I assumed you were dead!" _How am I to respond to that_? She thought, sighing.

"As you can plainly see, I'm very much alive," she replied in an attempt to not sound awkward.

He laughed nervously. "Yes, yes, _grazie a Dio_! When you disappeared I was so worried – some of the guards claimed you were carried off by that vile Ezio Auditore!" Her eyes slightly narrowed, and much to her dismay, he continued on with his rant. "Absolutely and utterly horrible, that man; first he kills Uberto Alberti – one of the finest lawyers Italia has ever known – and then the whole of the Pazzi family! I hope he enjoys his stay in Hell! Oh, he must have treated you so horribly, you poor thing."

_He does not understand, Gemma,_ she told herself. "Actually, Ezio was nothing but a gentleman to me. He treated me like an honored guest of his – and never laid a hand on me." _Well, that's not entirely true_, she corrected herself, resisting a coy smile.

"Oh," he responded, taken aback, "well, the man was a known womanizer – the most notorious of his trysts being with that Cristina Vespucci! _Beautiful_ woman, the lucky bastard. You were obviously strong enough to resist his advances and see him for the true filth he was! I applaud you, Gemma!" _Biggest lie of the century_, she disagreed, fighting off the need to wince at the mention of Cristina's name.

Still, she wasn't in the best of the moods – and if he was going to take jabs at her self-esteem, she felt the need to do the same. "Ezio cannot help that woman flock to him," she pointed out matter-of-factly, very happy he wasn't there to hear it, "he's cultured, handsome, strong, and a gentleman. Any woman would gladly give an arm for such a man – I felt my safest when I was with him."

"He is a criminal," Cecilio countered, his tone defensive.

"He never harmed anyone that wasn't endangering Italia, Cecilio. His blade is stained with the blood of those who harmed the innocent. If that is a criminal, then I was obviously taught the wrong meaning of the word."

His eyebrows furrowed together. "You sound like you're in love with him."

"I merely know the difference between a criminal and a hero," she answered, avoiding that forsaken topic altogether.

"And so? Where is your _eroe_ now?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled. "Out saving the world and creating a legacy behind him." _And hunting a man that does not exist._ She turned on her heel and began to walk in the opposite direction.

"What about you, Gemma?" Cecilio barked harshly, obviously offended. He'd always been a fickle, petty _bastardo_. "While he saves the world, what happens to you?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned. "I have no idea."

* * *

Gemma walked for what felt like hours just taking in the nostalgic scenery of Firenze. The sun was beginning to set as she sat on the docks of the Arno river, staring into the murky, unsanitary water. As she sat she began to wonder just what that was with Cecilio.

She defended him so quickly – she actually got a bit angry that someone was insulting him so fiercely. She did not stop to even _consider_ that he could have been right somehow – because, to her, he wasn't – her belief in that Assassin was so unyielding, her loyalty so cemented, she could never truly accept the notion that he was just another criminal. _Pathetic_.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. She felt weak. Insignificant. Ezio Auditore was saving the world while thousands adored him and his work, while she sat around, doing absolutely nothing.

_What happens to you_?

The question lingered in her head – and despite the answer she gave Cecilio, it felt like a lie. What destiny? That of a wandering nobody who thought she could go against society?

Gemma absently ran a hand down the front of her bag. It froze for a moment when she felt the rounded shape under the cloth.

_The Apple._

She grabbed her bag and practically flew up the steps, running to a nearly deserted section of the city, aside from a few drunkards and brothel-less courtesans. She leaned against a nearby brick wall and slid to a sitting position. Carefully, she reached into the bag and removed the artifact from its hiding place.

Feeling the course of energy shoot through her, she began to see just what she could do with something so powerful. She, too, could be someone – she wouldn't fade into obscurity, alone and forgotten by all that had known her.

_No one would ever judge you on appearance alone anymore_, a tiny, unknown voice whispered, _your name – your _real _name – would be known and respected all across the land. You could–_

"Gemma!" Her eyes snapped up, widening in horror. "You … _why do you have the Apple_?" For the love of God, why was he there? How did he find her so quickly?

_ "_E – Ezio," she murmured, somewhat questioning if he was real. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he countered angrily. "The real question is how you got that Apple."

Was he _really_ going to take away her only chance? "_Non sono affari tuoi_!"

"It sure as hell _is_ my business," he growled, "you have no idea what you have in your hands right now, Gemma! _No idea_!"

Her hands clenched around the artifact. "For once in your life, Ezio, treat me as your equal. If I cannot understand it, then you cannot, either."

"I never said I did," he agreed tersely. "But that thing … its power is unprecedented, I have been studying it for a long time and uncovered nothing of its secrets. But I know this – it can corrupt a man and render him absolutely mad with power."

"I am not a man," she pointed out fiercely. "And I am … smart enough to not lose myself. This – this Apple can help me–!"

"_No_!" he cried. "It will only destroy you, and I will be damned if I allow that to happen!"

"You? _You_?" Gemma began to tremble in fury. "_Everything_ has to run by you, doesn't it? You cannot 'allow' me to do anything because it is _my_ decision to make!"

He glared at her. "I do not want to fight with you again, Gemma."

"And you think I do?" she replied, frustrated. "Just get out of here."

"Not without the Apple." Ezio paused, taking a slight step forward. "And not without you." She opened her mouth to speak.

"My apologies for interrupting such a _sentimental_ moment, but the only one who will be leaving Firenze with that Apple is me."

It seemed His Holyness had decided to pay the two of them an unexpected visit.

* * *

**Italian to English:**

_**Buon viaggio, bella**_**: Good travels, beautiful.**

_**Scusi**_**: Excuse me.**

_**Eroe**_**: Hero.**

_**Non sono affari tuoi**_**: None of your business.**

**Ahahaha, yeah, I'm late. I have a valid excuse, but I'll spare you all the too long; didn't read in all of it. I promise to try and update more often! In fact, pretty much done with the next chapter. Heheh. :3**


	24. Sentiero

The Confidant

Chapter 24: Sentiero

"_Borgia_," Ezio's hand shot to the hilt of his blade. "Why are you here?"

"To retrieve what is rightfully mine," he answered darkly. "_Guards_!" A very large hoard of armed men came charging at the two of them. She was immediately conflicted. If she took her eyes off the Apple for a single moment, either Ezio or Borgia would take it. She stood there without any weapons or armor, confused and torn, and clenched her eyes shut when a guard came running at her.

Something deflected his path, and she opened her eyes to see Ezio fighting off wave after wave of men directly in front of her. Her eyebrows furrowed together. _Gemma, what are you doing?_ She was doing exactly what she hated – standing by and being useless. If he was going to put aside their current fight to protect her, she would do the same. She whirled on her heel to search for her sword.

Her hands froze when she realized she'd left it on her horse. She swore under her breath and practically tore her bag of supplies apart in an attempt to search for something. She found a small stiletto and a few throwing knives and figured they were her best bet.

Aiming carefully, she fired three into the necks of the novice guards that were directly on Ezio, fixating her sights on two attempting to charge at him with spears. Once they were taken care of, she slipped carefully around the guards who were distracted with Ezio toward one of the brutes, who didn't seem to be paying attention to the woman with the Apple, despite Rodrigo's screaming that it was the main goal of the evening.

She'd dealt with brutes before quite easily, but with a bigger range of weapons and stealth on her side. She knew that they would be one of the their biggest problems if she didn't take care of them. She crept forward and leapt onto his back, attempting to bury the stiletto into his neck. Unfortunately for her, he was a bit stronger than the brutes she was used to in San Gimignano.

"_Putanna!_" he roared. "Unhand me!" His armored elbow went slamming into her gut, and she went flying backward, sliding against the ground with what felt like a massive bruise on her stomach.

"Gemma!" Ezio called out – but he was too preoccupied to come to her aid.

"I'm fine," she replied sharply.

"Not for long." Her eyes snapped up to see Rodrigo Borgia hovering over her, sword in hand, quite ready to plunge the weapon straight through her. "Disobedient _stronza_, I _knew_ you knew about the Apple!"

She'd had about enough with the disobedient talk. She quickly grabbed a hold of her dagger and sliced it across his stomach,kicking Borgia backward onto the ground. "_Bastardo_, I should kill you right now for what you put me through!"

"You could never kill me," Rodrigo hissed, "because then I'd have to have them take you back into the dark room, Gemma, and reacquaint you with the whip." She was assaulted with flashbacks, excruciating, detailed recollections of her time in the _Capella Sistina_. Her hands began to tremble.

"Don't listen to him!" she heard Ezio cry out. "He has no power over you!"

"Oh, but I do," he disagreed darkly, "I know you haven't forgotten those three nights. Do you want to relive that, Gemma?"

She never wanted to feel her body so close to flames ever again. "_Y – You_–!"

"I thought so," he murmured, standing to his feet despite the wound. "Now, give me the Apple."

"Gemma! Ignore his–!"

"_Ha_! Did I not tell you of the _Assassino_'s ways?" Borgia smirked. "Don't tell me you have forgotten our discussion – I found it to be quite … enlightening."

So many emotions flooded into her all at once. The only one she could make out was the purest, most animistic form of rage she'd ever experienced. She wanted to kill him, to rip him into little shreds and spread the vile remains into a pile and set them ablaze, thereby erasing any trace of him. Her eyes darted to about a meter away, where her dagger was lying, discarded when she was thrown off of the brute.

She had about five seconds to weigh her options. If she moved too drastically, it would be the end – Borgia had a perfect angle of her and could kill her in an instant. Her solution was unorthodox, and it was damn risky, but the only thing she had to lose at that point was unable to assist her.

The heel of her foot went directly between the Pope's legs, and she jumped to her feet at the sweet sound of _oof_! that echoed through the air for a few moments. With the Apple still firmly in hand, she pounced for her dagger and brandished it threateningly when Borgia regained a sense of coherency and glared at her with an intense ferocity.

Gemma easily mirrored the sentiment, smirking maliciously. But she knew she was no match for that man – especially when he was armed with a full-length blade and all she had was a dagger. However, she had no other choice in the matter. She raised her arm for a slash when a spasm of razor sharp pain shot through it – and she remembered with contempt about the knife wound from not too long ago.

She let out a muffled, audible cry and clutched her arm. The Pope laughed maliciously. "Suffered a bit of a setback on your ludicrous exploits, Gemma?"

"I don't need two arms to kill you," she spat, her teeth grinding together at the relentless pain in her arm. But she dared not show him that – the sadistic bastard.

"But you might need the other one to face me," came a voice that all but froze her to the spot. She forced the lump forming in her throat back down when she met those familiar, clear blue-gray eyes she'd grown so used to. By that time, Ezio had finished off the last guard and was standing beside her. He handed her a sword he'd swiped from one of the guards.

"Esposito," Ezio growled, his hand clenching into a fist.

"Auditore," Alessio countered, maintaining his usual steely composure, a visible smirk stretched across his freckled face. Despite his supposed arrogance, he looked stressed. He'd aged a bit since she last saw him, noticeable bags under his eyes. She wanted to tackle the wretched man and beat the ever loving hell out of him for betraying her in so many different ways. "So nice to see you again. It's been too long."

"Spare me the greeting," the Assassin snapped, pure hatred in his voice, "you have ten seconds before I run you through."

The Templar laughed. "_Sono spaventato_."

"I am your problem for tonight, Ezio," Rodrigo deadpanned, "because on your little whore is something that belongs to me." Gemma's blood boiled in every orifice of her body as Ezio lunged at the Pope, and she was left facing her best friend turned worst enemy.

"Some color has returned to your face," he commented casually. "You never give up, do you?"

She grinned broadly. "Of course not, I figured you'd have known that by now." And so the steel of their swords rung into the air, and the rematch she'd been itching for began.

* * *

"You've gotten better," he remarked after successfully dodging a jab of hers. The way he was dealing with it was so infuriatingly casual, she wanted to grab him and demand an explanation to everything – but it was far too late for such a luxury. The both of them had made their choices long ago.

"And you've gotten worse," she replied blankly, narrowly avoiding a stab to the shoulder. His sword was more expensive and quicker than hers, but he was off that night. She couldn't pin point how or why, but it was enough to give her a solid advantage.

He let out a laugh devoid of emotion. "You have gotten so cruel." In that moment, his eyes narrowed and he showed a small sliver of emotion. "Actually, you've always been cruel."

"You're one to talk," she spat.

"You don't understand."

"I don't presume to, you monster."

"I treated you like royalty since the day we met," he hissed. "And what do I get in return? _Humiliation_ – from the very first moment I …" He trailed off and she slammed the hilt of her sword into his gut, and he slid back, clenching his eyes briefly in pain, before reopening them and flaring his nostrils in rage.

She frowned. "You were my dearest friend, Alessio." Her jaw set in a hard line. "But you used me to get to Ezio. And you threw me into that God forsaken _hole_." She blacked out the dreaded memories of seeing his face, so stoic, as she was dragged into the chamber.

"_For your own good_!" he roared, his eyes wild with a raw form of hysteria. "You never listened to a word I said – if only you just _listened_ you could have been my _wife_, Gemma!" He spoke as if that was supposed to be an image she'd _wanted_.

Her eyes widened incredulously. "_What_ …?"

"I loved you," Alessio informed her, taking a staggered step toward her. "I _loved you with my entire being_! But instead you chose that filthy _pezzo di merda_ who toyed with you like a marionette … but you kept going _back_ to him!"

Her lower lip quivered. She never expected such an outburst – or such a confession. She shook her head vigorously, attempting to grasp the situation. He continued. "You found him in the arms of another woman in Firenze, and so I thought I could finally have you for myself like you _ought to have been_ from the very beginning. But _no_, of course not – he had you entranced under his spell and you ran back to him like a whore on her knees!"

Her hands clenched into fists that were so tight they turned white. "_How dare yo_–!"

"How dare I what, Gemma?" he snarled. "Tell you the truth? _You are mine – and have always been mine_ – not _his_ – I'd rather _you_ die than see you with that Godless _bastardo_!"

"I am belong to no one," she replied with pure ice.

He scoffed. "You obeyed him like a bitch in heat." He resumed his grip on his weapon and came charging at her, slashing wildly. She fought back with everything that she had – and she wanted to slap all the form of sense she could into him. But in his rage, he managed to overpower her defenses, flinging her sword to another corner and pinning her down on the ground, his hands placed firmly over her throat in a vice-like grip. The Apple rolled to a small corner, atop her blade.

"If only you listened to me," he said in a much smaller voice. "If only you saw how horrible of a person he was before it was too late … I would have made you my wife."

"You … are the one … who is horrible …" she managed to force out, oxygen quickly leaving her. It was difficult to move as his hands clamped down on her wind pipe. She made out Ezio shouting something out in the nearby distance, but it was hard to focus as she attempted to free herself from Alessio's grip. She refused to give up at that point, summoning what little strength she had left, and grabbed his arms to help her gain enough leverage to land a kick to his gut.

He let out a sputter and gasp as the wind quickly left him, and his grip slackened. For half a moment, he fell on top of her and the two of them sat there, stunned, until she snapped out of it and shoved him off of her.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath, struggling back to her feet. Their eyes met for half a second as he caught his own breath.

"_Puttana_," he raggedly barked, clutching his chest with knit eyebrows. "You always talked of having your own freedom – but what are you now, an Assassin's whore? _Think about what he's done to you_!"

"I _am_ free," she snarled, throwing a fierce punch. He caught her hand, reversed the strength and threw her against a building. Her back slammed against the wall as he pinned her arms above her head. He, much to her surprise, didn't choke her or even attempt to.

"You would have been my queen," he whispered brokenly, his expression torn in so many different ways. "He treated you like a toy. I … I … _why_, Gemma?"

His mood swings were so erratic, she wasn't sure how to respond. "Alessio–!"

"Shut up!" he demanded sharply, seizing her face and dragging her in for a forceful kiss. Her eyes shot to the size of plates, her body freezing in its position. He put so much emotion and desperation into the kiss, she briefly forgot how to fight him off. But it was too much – she could still see him, reactionless, while they cracked the whip on her body. He released her arms in order to put his hands on either side of her face, getting a better angle.

She took the opportunity, slowly reaching down and grasping the hilt of a dagger at his side. Unsheathing it as quietly as she could, this was her only chance to make things right. Just as she was about to plunge the blade into his back, she stopped for a split second in hesitation. Old memories flooded into her mind – she did not want to kill her best friend, the only reason she smiled those confusing days back in Venezia. But was there any other choice? The Alessio she knew no longer existed. In his place lived a cruel, ruthless shell of a man who was fully ready to kill her.

Gemma could no longer pretend things could back to how they were, and she stabbed him multiple times in the back, her jaw setting as he fell to the ground in agony. She glanced over to Ezio, who paused to watch her with worried eyes for a moment before continuing his fight with Borgia.

She stared at Alessio as he writhed and groaned on the ground, his blood beginning to spread on the stone floor. She knelt at his side, her teeth clenching.

"You gave me no choice," she hissed, cursing herself for getting emotional all of a sudden.

Much to her surprise and horror, he smiled. The one she'd always loved. "I … know."

"You have always been such an _idiot_," she cursed, her voice beginning to get thicker. He laughed – it was weak as life dwindled from him.

"So, you … do not hate me too much after all." The look on his face was killing her. "That … is good. I can die … easier."

"I _should_ hate you," Gemma snarled, tears beginning to roll down her face. "After all that you've done to me – after _everything_ that you put me through – I should be _happy_ about this."

He nodded. "Borgia is … very good at manipulation. He told me … that I had to punish you for the choices you made. I believed him. And now … I can see how wrong I was … but it's too late for anything to come out of it." Why was he fessing up _now_, she thought, her heart growing heavier with each passing moment.

"Ah … you're crying?" His hand reached up to touch her face. For once, she didn't feel a need to jerk away from his touch. With the tip of his finger, he attempted to wipe the tears away. "Do not cry for my sake, I do not deserve such a response. You did what you had to."

"You're right," Gemma agreed, "but I … I can't–!"

He cut her off quickly. "Shh. Do you remember … what I told you when I saw you crying in Venezia?" She remembered. It was after a particularly annoying argument with Ezio, and everything that she had kept bottled up came spilling out. He sat next to her and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"'Don't waste your time crying … life has no patience for such a thing. Fix the problem,'" she repeated in a whisper.

He coughed, smiling weakly. "_Esattamente_. I want you to take the dagger and finish me off, Gemma."

"_Wha_–!"

"I am going to die, anyway," he reminded her, "I'd rather … you be the one to end it … then sit here and wait for it to happen." A small conflict of emotions battled out in her head. She berated herself for allowing such old memories to cloud her otherwise good judgment. But she knew he was right – he was going to die painfully and slowly if she did not act at that moment.

"You … hesitate?" he murmured, flashing a half-smile. "I … somehow I'm glad. Maybe … just a bit … you love me too."

"_Bastardo_," she barked, in a voice barely audible to herself. She positioned herself over his throat, her hand clutching tightly to the hilt of the small blade.

"Always … the spirited one," he commented quietly. "Make sure … he takes care of you … in the way I never could. Goodbye, Gemma." She couldn't muster any kind of reply, and silently ran the blade twice over his throat.

With a gurgle, his eyes rolled in the back of his head, and Alessio was gone.

"_Requiescat in pace_," she whispered, closing his glazed blue-grey eyes for good. The dagger slipped out of her sweaty palms. Her eyes clenched tight, her hands closing into tight fists. But there was no time to mourn, and she forced herself to snap back to attention. Guards were beginning to interfere with Ezio and Borgia's fight, but she knew he could handle himself.

What _truly_ mattered was the Apple, which sat unnoticed in a corner. She lunged forward and grasped the smooth metal, grabbing her discarded sword with her other hand.

"Not so fast, _puttana_." She turned her head to face a small group of three guards, each grinning maliciously at her. "You seem to have something that belongs to us." An intense, overbearing emotion overcame her at the sight of their smug faces.

Without a moment's hesitation, she jumped forward and shoved the blade into a guard's gut, a vicious look in her eyes as she kicked the man to the ground, dislodging her sword from his body to finish off the other two. Quick as she could manage, she swiped the cold metal across the throat of the third one.

That was when the world began to shake around her. Her body had enough. She desperately willed herself to finish off the last one, and actually managed to land a fatal blow in his chest.

She dropped to her knees, then, clutching the Apple desperately to her chest as the world began to darken into an obsidian shade of nothingness.

* * *

With a throbbing head, she came to in a dark room lit by candlelight. Her hands were empty. Where was the Apple? Instantly, her mind jumped to the very worst possible scenario. Borgia has captured me again, she thought frantically She shot forward into a sitting position in what felt like … a bed? Why would he put her in a bed?

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she turned with wide, startled eyes to the face of a beautiful woman.

"Calm down," she said in a soothing, maternal voice, "you're safe. I promise."

"_Where_ …?" Gemma murmured, clutching her aching head.

"_La Rosa Colta_," the woman explained softly. "You've been asleep for a full day. Ezio is worried sick, you know." A brothel?

At the mention of his name, she tensed. "Ezio?"

The woman grew serious. "Yes, Ezio Auditore. Do you not remember him? Did you suffer a blow to the head?"

"No, no," she insisted, shaking her head slightly, "I know who I am and who he is. I … assumed he would not want to see me."

She smiled. "Quite the contrary. His every other sentence concerned you, Gemma." At that, she was surprised. She'd told him she hated him, then stole the Apple and got him into a fight with Borgia. "He is the one who brought you here in the first place," she added quietly after a moment's silence.

"Who … are you?" she asked.

"Call me Paola. I am an Assassin, just like Ezio." Her voice was vaguely familiar to her, and when she said her name, she was reminded of what felt like an eternity ago – when she was eavesdropping on Ezio, at sixteen years old. It was startling to consider how long ago it seemed to be.

"Well," she continued, breaking the awkward silence, "I suppose I'd best tell him you're awake – else I fear he's going to kill himself with concern." Paola stood to her feet and silently exited the room, leaving Gemma to her own infuriating uncertainty. Nothing was clear in her head. Her hands bunched around the sheets of the bed, her teeth clenching furiously as the memories of yesterday began to flash in her minds like punches to the face.

She shoved herself out of bed, her legs whining with the sudden strain, but she ignored them, wandering to a nearby balcony and supporting herself on the stone railing. For a moment, she looked down over the balcony to the ground below.

"Gemma!" she whirled, and met the eyes of the Assassin, his eyes and movement cautious as he stepped towards her. "_Vieni qui_ – please? Get away from there."

She laughed darkly. "Do you think I'm fit to kill myself, Ezio? I cannot do such a thing – as much as I deserve it."

He took another step forward. "That's a lie, and you know it."

"Do I?" she murmured. "It was I that led Alessio into his descent into madness, I was the one who drove him into the arms of Borgia, _I was the one that killed him_."

He sighed heavily. "Gemma, if you start blaming yourself for the inevitable, you are never going to find peace."

"I deserve no peace," she deadpanned, facing the city as it began to light up with lanterns and candles. "I killed my best friend in more ways than one."

"He knew where your heart was," he whispered, taking her hand and squeezing it, "and he knew you would have never hurt him. But he let himself be poisoned by Borgia's words."

"This is easy for you to say," she countered harshly. "He wasn't in love with you."

"I am no stranger to this situation," Ezio said softly. "For some time, I was in love with Cristina Vespucci. She is now dead." His voice sounded so pained as he continued on. "She was the ticket back to my old life – that carefree, luxurious period before everything went so terribly wrong. I loved her … but it didn't feel the same anymore. But I kept running back to her, refusing to believe it, and eventually, she was fed up with it. She told me to never seek her out again."

She frowned. "I'm sorry."

He chuckled, shrugging. "I brought it upon myself, for being so damned stubborn. Not too long ago, she was killed by enemies of Florence. She died in my arms from a wound I couldn't save her from."

"You did not inflict it on her," she whispered.

"I might as well have," he replied without a moment's hesitation. "I have no doubt she'd still be alive if I took her with me."

She felt the same way about Alessio, though she'd been the one to kill him. "She would have slowed you down."

"And he would have done the same to you." The both of them stared at each other for a long while, and he traced a finger down her face. "Do you see what going about the past can do? It has already happened. You will be driven mad, going over again and again about what you could have done. Focus, instead, on the future. On what is right in front of you."

She lowered her eyes. "His death …"

"… was meant to happen," Ezio finished for her. "He would have hunted you down and killed you, Gemma. You know that. When men like him are faced with their impending death, only then can they see the truth behind their actions. I know this first hand."

"And if he killed you," he added in a voice devoid of human feeling, "I would have torn him apart."

He was so eerily serious that it almost had a shiver go up her spine. "And his body?"

"I gave him a proper burial," Ezio replied, surprising her.

"I thought you hated him," she observed, confused.

"Oh, I do," he clarified instantly, "but you didn't, as much as I know you'd like to think otherwise. I am above disrespecting the dead, nonetheless. It's what you would have wanted, I assumed."

She nodded. "Thank you." He wrapped his arms around her, and her arms hung at her sides for a moment before she buried her face in his chest, grateful for the warmth.

"Did you love him?" he murmured at one point.

She paused for a few moments before answering. "_Non so_."

He didn't press the matter, but addressed an entirely new one. "Do you love me?" Her heart skipped several beats – and, unlike the last one, she instantly knew the answer to the question. But fear made itself known in her throat. She was afraid of the response.

She looked up from his chest, and he was staring down at her with a gentle, patient look in his dark brown eyes. Carefully, she pushed herself up on her toes and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. He was too surprised to respond as instantly as he normally did.

"I'm sure you've known the answer to that question for a long time," she whispered after a moment's silence.

"Not quite," he murmured, reaching down to bury his face in her neck. "If I remember correctly, you said you hated me."

She bit her lip. "I was not exactly in a sound mental state."

He tightened his grip around her. "I know. And I … I'm sorry about that I–"

"Did you not just tell me that going about the past will drive one mad?" she argued. He smirked playfully, nodding once.

They stood in each other's arms for a long while, until Ezio finally broke the silence. "What do you want to do now?"

"Run away," she murmured, and before he jumped to the worst possible conclusion, she tightened her grip on him, "with you."

"I want to," he whispered into the skin of her neck, "God, I want to. To leave everything behind and simply focus on you."

Her eyes fluttered shut. "But you cannot. _Lo so_."

He groaned. "Gemma, when all of this is over, when I can wake up in the morning and not have to worry about who I am going to kill in a matter of hours, and who will be trying to kill me – I want you to be there with me."

"I feel like it is never going to be over," she hissed.

"It will be," he promised her. "And when it is, you will be my wife."

She looked up sharply at his face. It was entirely serious. "Ezio …" She had only ever considered that possibility in her wildest of dreams.

"This is not a joke, Gemma," he insisted softly, taking her face in his large hands. "I am so tired of how things are between us. Never knowing if you are going to run away from me, disappearing for months at a time. It is maddening."

"I tell you I hate you," she recollected in a quiet voice, "I then steal the Apple and subject you to an unimaginable amount of frustration, and then you're forced to fight Rodrigo Borgia – all because of me. How in the world does that equate to a marriage proposal?"

He laughed. "My logic is wonderful, isn't it?"

"Impeccable."

"And so?" he whispered, leaning forward so that their foreheads touched. "What do you say to this? I think it is a good idea."

"But … I …" His eyebrows knit together at her uncertainty and hesitation. The thought, above all else, scared her. Being tied to him in such a way. She always figured that marriage was basically impossible, and accepted it very early on. Now that _he_ was the one to say he wanted it, it boggled her mind to a point where she was speechless.

"_Lupo il Magnifico_ hesitates," he murmured, his warm breath tickling her ear. "Why is that?"

She sighed. "From the moment I realized that I … well, I was convinced that such a thing wasn't possible … considering your lifestyle. I pushed it from my mind, didn't allow myself to even _consider_ it."

"I can understand that," he agreed, "but the life expectancy of an Assassin like me … is shorter than average. I want to make things right between the two of us so, if I die, I can say I made the right choice and made you my wife when I had the chance."

His wording made it a bit worse for her. "You give me such comfort."

He chuckled. "Does the thought of–?"

"Of course it terrifies me, Ezio," she snapped, pushing out of his arms and gripping onto the edge of the balcony, "you're the only one in the world I can trust. If you were gone … well, I'd pretend like nothing was wrong. But on the inside …" her hand tightened on the stone.

He stood directly behind her, placing a hand over hers. She fit so well against him. "I want you to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Keeping things like that to yourself," he said. "I want to know what's going on in your beautiful head, Gemma. This can work, I promise. But first we have to eliminate secrets from the agenda; I want you to feel comfortable telling me absolutely everything."

She nodded once. "The same goes for you."

"Of course," Ezio replied. "I am many things, but I am not a hypocrite. I'll tell you so much that your ears will bleed, how about that?" His lips wandered to the top of her ear, nibbling there for a brief moment, which elicited a high-pitched giggle that she was quickly embarrassed of. Good God, what was he doing to her?

"_Perfetto_," she whispered. He turned her around, their lips meeting. At first it was slow, tentative and teasing. He was cautious, after so much had happened between them. He'd entirely trapped her against him, both arms leaning against the balcony for support as he began to get quicker and quicker with his physical conquest.

Before things escalated too quickly, she pushed him back, reminded. "What of Borgia and the Apple?"

"I have the Apple," he reassured her, presenting the small metal object in front of her for a few moments. "Borgia … when you collapsed, I didn't think, I ran to your aid – when I turned around, he had fled, the bastard. I wanted to give chase but … I thought that …" he sighed heavily, unable to finish his sentence.

There was a sullen look in his eyes that annoyed her. "Thought that … what?"

"You died," he replied in a small voice, something he rarely ever did. Ezio always walked and spoke with the confidence of the true man he was. He sounded so … frightened. "I … you were not breathing correctly and I …" Ezio trailed off again, his teeth grinding together and his eyes clenching shut.

Her eyebrows knit together, and she reached out to cup his face with both of her hands. "Ezio, I'm right here."

"I have lost too many to the Templars," he muttered, leaning in her to touch. "If I lost _you_ … by God, I don't know what I'd be able to do with myself." She never recalled him being so open with her, and despite the fact the topic was grim, it gave her a warm feeling in her heart.

"You aren't going to lose me."

"But what if I did?" he demanded, meeting her eyes with a fierce intensity. "Don't you realize what this means? Out of everything in this world, you are my one, true weakness. I can be human with you. For a few hours of each day … I can be a normal man. I can forget that I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze, and just be Ezio again. If anything ever happened to you … I would lose my humanity. Rendered cold and heartless. And it is the one thing that we Assassins fight to _preserve_ in mankind."

She smiled a sad smile, her heart fluttering in her chest. "Well, it seems I have quite the job on my hands." He laughed, shaking his head and bending his head down to kiss her again.

And for once, as she kissed him back, there wasn't a seed of doubt in her head.

* * *

**A/N: My editor is going to kill me for this. I was pretty impatient to get this through, and decided to just go and check it over myself to just get it posted already. Sorry for the delay – much bullshit in my life right now, LOL. And now for the Epilogue, and finally, the sequel! Woohoo, Brotherhood sequel~ 8D**

_**Italian to English:**_

_**Puttana: **_**Whore**

_**Stronza**_**: Bitch**

_**Bastardo**_**: Bastard**

_**Sono spaventato: **_**I'm terrified.**

_**Pezzo di merda: **_**Piece of shit**

_**Esattamente**_**: Exactly**

_**Vieni qui**_**: Come here**

_**Perfetto**_**: Perfect**


	25. Epilogo

The Confidant

Epilogo

_1499 Dicembre_

Despite the fact that she was practically consumed with worry, Gemma attempted to calm her nerves with pacing back and forth in their room. He'd been gone for over two weeks, and as much as she wanted to go with him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, she knew that it was his fight and his alone.

"Gemma." She turned to see Claudia in the doorway. "Do you mind helping with some of the flowers for the party?" Claudia was throwing a birthday party for herself – which was to be kept from Ezio as a surprise. She thought it silly, keeping such a strange thing from him, but nonetheless she agreed.

"Ah … sure." When Mario had announced that he was going to Roma to make sure all was well with Ezio, she suppressed a sigh of relief. She halfway suggested that she come, too, but Mario would not hear of it.

"You know my _nipote_, Gemma," he had said. "If he sees you with me in such a dangerous place, he will have at my throat!" He was right, and she knew that, so she decided upon hoping that Ezio did not run into Cesare in his missions. She never told him exactly what had happened in the dungeons of the _Capella Sistina. _He seemed powerful, and his commentary throughout her ordeal definitely proved to be something that haunted her day by day.

She looked up to the sky and noted it was mid-afternoon as she followed Claudia down the steps of the Auditore Villa. Effortlessly, she lifted the crates at the bottom of the steps.

"I envy your strength, Gemma," Claudia commented, "both physically and emotionally. My brother has always been the type to … shelter … those he loved. And remain distant at the same time. And to me, it seems that no matter how hard he tries, he cannot control you."

"I do not let him," she replied, shrugging. "He has a habit of being pessimistic when it comes to my safety. I am not about to let that restrict me."

Claudia laughed. "You know him well, then."

"Well enough." Gemma stopped in her tracks when she took in the sight of a woman standing at the entrance to the house. There was a very regal air about her, and she was possibly one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Her long, red hair was tied in a neat bun, and her bangs framed her pale face perfectly. She wore a violet dress that hugged her enviable curves very, very nicely. If she knew Ezio's reputation, then that woman was there to see him. "Who is …?"

"The _Contessa _of Forlí," she replied. "She arrived earlier today while you were upstairs, she has come to welcome Ezio and discuss political tactics with him, or something. She didn't specify."

Gemma's eyebrow rose. "I see." A very selfish side of her was not too happy about that. If anything, she intended to monopolize all of Ezio's free time when he did return.

"A bit threatened, are we?" Claudia nudged her side, snickering, and Gemma played along as well as she could. Ignoring the woman's presence, she set the box of flowers down near the others and began to aimlessly walk around.

She strolled through the market square, listening to the usual crying of the merchants and their talk of just how amazing their products were.

"_Signora_ Gemma! Come, come, try my new wares – I got them from Venezia just yesterday!" Since Ezio owned the basic entirety of the town, the shopkeepers had a tendency to suck up to her to get in good favors with him. It was rather tedious to deal with. On top of that, she often got side-glares from specific women in town who pined after Ezio to no avail. To that, she did not care, however. Those women were petty, jealous and annoying, and she saw no need to feed it.

Bored, she found herself scaling the stone walls to the men who were working on the new cannons for Monteriggioni. The main technician was grumbling to himself about the incompetence of soldiers, and the two men that were with him simply watched, occasionally rolled their eyes, and remained silent.

"Well, well," the technician said upon seeing her. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I want to know how to fire it," she said, her voice blunter than she intended. He laughed.

"This cannon is far too complicated for women, unfortunately." She sighed with a roll of her eyes, used to words like that. "Perhaps you should go home and–! _Hey_!"

"Move aside." She shoved the man with an unladylike force and shifted her concentrated glare over to the two mercenaries. "Give me ammo." The technician, she knew, was much newer to the city – but the mercenaries knew her and who she was and dared not cross her.

"_S – Si, Signora_," one replied, awkwardly loading a round, black projectile into the cannon. It was heavy, but she managed to shift it towards a pair of two figures moving towards the city on horses. Feeling a bit mischievous, she fired it about 10 meters to the right of them, laughing as the darker clad rider visibly flinched. She didn't care to figure out who they were, for they were too far away to properly judge.

The force of the weapon made her stumble backwards a bit and the noise almost destroyed her ears, but otherwise, she put her hands on her hips with a satisfied smirk.

A mercenary she remembered to be named Luigi threw his head back in a laugh. "You discourage people from visiting our city, _Signora_!"

Gemma shrugged. "If they cannot handle a few measly cannon balls, then it is not worth the worry."

"In all my years, never have I seen a woman so adept with weapons." A broad, mildly flirtatious grin grew on the technician's face. "Tell me, _bella_, what is your name?"

One of the mercenaries awkwardly coughed, but Gemma decided to play along. No one had dared try anything with her due to the visible red ribbon that had been wrapped around her wrist, and she'd grown bored. Did no one have enough balls to defy Ezio? But then, he did not exactly _know_ about Ezio. "Gemma. A pleasure it is to meet you."

The technician wasn't an attractive man. He was built and dressed like a mercenary with a full beard covering his jaw and pale, uneven skin. "Well, Gemma, my name is Adriano. If ever you need any private lessons on the workings of my cannons, do not hesitate to seek me out."

_In your dreams_. "I'll keep that in mind, _Signor_ Adriano." With a wink, he walked away, and once he was out of earshot, she began to laugh impishly.

"That was cruel, _Signora_," Luigi commented, though he laughed. "The poor _bastardo_ is going to get a very rude awakening if he tries anything with you in the presence of _Signor_ Ezio."

Gemma shrugged. "Not a single man in the city has so much looked at me in a suspicious way. I need to feel like a woman, too, you know." Hell, if Demetrio was there, he'd be going out of his way simply for the sake of angering Ezio. She wondered where her brash old friend was at some points.

"Because every man knows just who tied that ribbon around your hand, _Signora_ Gemma," Luigi pointed out matter-of-factly. "And as beautiful as you are, the prospect of death isn't exactly an appealing one." She couldn't help but throw her head back in a laugh at that. It was very true, to say the least.

"Well, speak of the devil," the other mercenary cried, "it is _Signor_ Ezio!" Her heart stopped and she rushed to the edge of the walls. So the rider she shot at – it was him. He rode through the entrance to Monteriggioni, a prideful aura about him. He waved to all who called out to him, and she leapt down onto a nearby roof, following him and Mario like a shadow. That day, she felt oddly playful, and intended to give him a hard time before he could properly say his hellos.

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the villa and dismounted.

"This place just keeps getting better," he observed, his ego properly stroked from all who called out to him.

"Thanks to you," Mario said as they strolled forward. Gemma sat the edge of the roof, waiting to see how long it took before he sought her out.

Claudia ran up. "Brother!"

"Claudia." The two of them hugged, and she could tell just how happy he was to be home. "It is good to be home. How is mother?"

"She's fine! I heard you were returning, but I am glad to see it with my own eyes. The _Contessa_ of Forlí is here to welcome you – I had no idea you were so famous!" _Neither did I_. Still, however, Gemma remained silent.

"Caterina? Here?" So her name was Caterina. Of course he spoke of her in so familiar a way. Gemma bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

His little sister then took on a very serious tone. "So … is it finished then? Is the Spaniard truly dead?" The mere mention of him made Gemma cringe.

"Gather the others in Mario's study tonight. I'll explain everything there," he said, and she wondered just about the horrors he faced in Roma. "Speaking of which … where is Gemma?"

"I …" Claudia noticed her standing on the rooftop behind him, but Gemma quickly winked and placed her finger over her mouth as a signal. "I don't know, Ezio. She walked off somewhere and I have not seen her for a good hour."

He groaned. "Of course she does not come to welcome me like a normal person."

Claudia chuckled and nodded in agreement. "You know her, she likes to spice things up."

"Unfortunately." He stretched his arms into the air. "Well, I'm going to try and find her. Expect I won't be back until nightfall." She laughed and went up the stairs. Ezio turned on his heel and she didn't move, smiling as chocolate and emerald met.

_"Salve,"_ she said quietly, knowing he could hear her. He opened his arms as a gesture to her, but she shook her head despite the need to just dash straight into him, an impish grin flashing across her face. "You're going to have to do a little work, _Assassino_."

He smirked. "With you? I'm not surprised." With a swift turn, she dashed away from him as fast as her dress could possibly allow her, diving straight into the small vat of hay, freezing as she heard his footsteps stop to survey the area.

"Underestimating me, are you?" he called out, and by the sound of it, he knew where she was hiding. As he jumped, she resurfaced from the straw and belted forward, weaving her way through the small groups of people.

"I've missed seeing this," a villager she didn't identify commented as she bolted past. She decided to confuse him a bit, because she knew he was right behind her. Gemma hoisted herself up onto a rooftop and ran, risking a glance backward to see that Ezio was quite literally a few paces behind her. Just as he made a grab for her waist, she kicked the lever of a lift and went flying straight up onto the walls of the city.

She could hear him curse, her grin broadening. Her eyes dashed for a specific hiding spot.

"Giving him a hard time?" Luigi asked with a hoarse laugh.

She nodded once. "Luigi, do me a favor, distract him." Unable to refuse her, the mercenary sighed in defeat as she dashed off in the opposite direction. She would have gone farther, had a rough hand not seized her and pinned her against the wall.

She certainly wasn't expecting Adriano. "You are in such a hurry, _bella_, why is that?"

"And is that any business of yours?" she inquired, shoving herself out of his grip. He didn't seem to take the hint, smirking and cornering her against the wall. She was many kinds of uncomfortable.

"You are unlike any woman I've ever seen," he remarked, leaning a hand against the stone wall and getting closer. He smelled terrible, and her nose scrunched up in visible distaste that he obviously chose to disregard. "I feel like we can establish quite a relationship, you and I."

She exhaled. "You may have gotten the wrong impression, but I am sorry to say I'm spoken for."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "A mere obstacle. What man could _possibly_ compare to me?"

"Adriano, my fiancé is–!"

"_Fiancé_?" he repeated with a grin. "Then you have yet to be married! That is good news!"

She stifled a laugh. This man's life would be in danger if Luigi couldn't distract Ezio long enough. "I admire your … persistence, but he isn't a normal man."

"Oh? And who _is_ this fiancé of yours?"

_Stubborn bastard_, she thought. "He goes by Ezio Auditore da Firenze."

"You have to do better than that to make me go away, _bella_," he responded. "Auditore does not settle on one woman – he is well spoken of amongst _Toscana_. He may have admired you once or twice, but I highly doubt he is the type to marry."

Gemma chuckled. "Oh, I agree."

"So do not cover up with lies!" Adriano insisted. "I may be a bit forward, but it is quite hurtful when you pretend to be engaged."

"Who said she is pretending?" She suppressed a sigh of relief when his voice broke through the awkward atmosphere. Adriano turned around, leaning off with a raised eyebrow.

He scowled. "So she was telling the truth."

"She was," Ezio clarified darkly. "I suggest you step away from her."

"Damn you, Auditore," he grunted. "You could have any woman in the world – why choose _this_ one?"

At that, the Assassin smirked. "Because this is the only woman who can handle me." The engineer swore under his breath, but didn't push the matter further, stalking off to do whatever people like him did when rejection was in the air.

She smiled coyly. "Well, thank you for rescuing me."

He shook his head. "Out of my sight for five minutes and you get yourself into trouble. What in the world am I going to do with you?"

"Mm, _non so_," she replied, a smirk tugging on her lips as the both of them stepped closer and closer to each other. "You really have terrible taste in women."

"I know," he agreed without a moment's argument. "I'm trapped. _Ma adesso non c__'é __niente da fare_, but I am very good at making the best out of a hopeless situation."

Her smirk grew wider. "Oh? Enlighten me, _Assassino_."

"Well, for starters," he murmured, carefully taking a hold of her hand and brushing his lips across the tips of her fingers, "I can marry you. In a week."

"A week?" she repeated in astonishment. Her head began to buzz. "_Sei pazzo_? You cannot plan a marriage in a week! And what about your–!"

"Taken care of," Ezio finished for her. "I have all the time in the world now. I am … _free_, Gemma. My enemies are dead. I can finally _breathe_ and good God, how I love this feeling!"

She grinned. She'd never seen him so joyful, and the smile on his face was enough to warm her heart. "No more month-long trips."

He shook his head. "Absolutely none. Yes, I am a hunted, wanted man but dammit, they will never think to look for me here. And _here_ is where I am going to stay."

"Don't give me false hope," she muttered. "This time tomorrow, I bet some random, brand new enemy is going to appear and the cycle will start all over again."

"Don't be so pessimistic," he replied gently, putting a hand against her cheek. "We won't be disturbed anymore, you and I. And do you know what that means?"

She leaned into his touch. "Tell me."

He swept her into his arms and spun her in the air once, a boyish grin stretching across his aged face. "Gemma Auditore. That is what is going to happen. And we can do it _right_ and–!"

"In a week?" she brought up the previous proposal with a raised, skeptical eyebrow.

Ezio grinned like an imp. "What? I am an impatient man."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You're impossible, that's what you are. And have obviously never planned a wedding before." He shrugged, giving her a _How hard could it be?_ look that clarified her assumption. The thought of all of this all at once made her mind boggle, but at that point, she was less scared, and more excited.

Finally. _Finally_.

* * *

All were waiting for Ezio in Mario's study that evening, and Gemma was leaning against the bookcase as she watched him stroll forward. It seemed that Caterina desired an alliance from him, of all things. She was still warm from Ezio's promise however, and therefore, her good mood could not be spoiled.

"Machiavelli, it is done." Ezio announced to a cloaked man with his arms behind his back. Gemma knew of him – her father often spoke of Niccolò Machiavelli, one of the greatest minds in all of Italia. To see him in person was rather surreal. "Though not, I think, as anyone expected."

Ezio began to weave a tale of his time in _il __Vaticano_, and his fight with the Pope, and how the man used the power of the papal staff against Ezio. But, obviously, he defeated him. The Staff and the Apple seemed to be a key to a Vault. Inside it, he spoke of a moving painting of the goddess Minerva who informed him of a tragedy that would befall mankind in the future, but also gave hope of lost temples that would aid humanity and prevent such an event. Then, Ezio continued, she called out to a phantom by the name of Desmond. After the warning, apparently, she disappeared.

"Amazing," Caterina remarked, voicing Gemma's own commentary.

"I cannot imagine such wonders," Claudia added in, awed.

Machiavelli had his own musings. "The Vault did not house the terrible weapon we feared. This is good news!"

"What of this goddess, this Minerva? Did she appear human?" Claudia asked, confused. Gemma had once read stories of the twelve gods and goddesses of Olympus, Minerva being one of them. Never did she even stop to consider that they could be real.

"Yes, but her words proved otherwise. All of her kind died many years ago." There was a look in Ezio's eyes that housed the same confusion and wonder they all had. "I wish I could show you the magic she performed."

Mario strolled forward, befuddled by the recollection. "Who is Desmond, and where are these temples Minerva spoke of?"

She could tell he didn't have a single clue. "I do not know."

"Perhaps we must search for them." Gemma's eyes fell in disappointment. She knew something like that would happen, naturally, but she didn't think so soon. Her eyes unconsciously met Ezio's, however, and he gave her something of a confident look, as if to say _do not worry_.

"Tell me how it ended with Borgia," Machiavelli said, discarding the conversation briefly of the talk of goddesses and temples. "Did Rodrigo beg forgiveness? Make excuses? Promise power in return?"

"No. None of those things," Ezio responded.

Machiavelli's eyebrow rose in surprise. "Interesting. I'm surprised he remained so composed."

There was a long pause and Ezio stepped forward. "I let him live." _What_? Her eyes widened to the size of plates, her heart rate quickening in a mixture of astonishment and fury.

The philosopher whirled on his heel. "The Spaniard lives?" Ezio stared at him unflinchingly, absolute and lacking remorse in a decision that she judged to be about the stupidest thing he had ever done. "Once our enemies are dead, we can speak of vaults and gods and ancient places. You should have killed him! We're sure to suffer for it."

"I am not here to debate the past!" Ezio argued fiercely, facing them. "Together, we should discuss the future."

Machiavelli would have none of it. "No. _I_ am leaving immediately for Roma." And with that, he stormed out of the study.

The atmosphere was tense and rather awkward until Mario spoke. "Ezio, I do not know why you spared him, but I trust your judgment. Machiavelli will come around." Ezio didn't reply, walking past them all in something of a sullen state. As he exited the room, he gave Gemma an expectant glance, and she nodded once.

As he walked off and she began to follow, a hand came down on her shoulder. She turned to see Caterina staring at her. "I can see that you are no relative of his."

"No, I am not," she replied, seeing no need to fill in the blanks.

"Such a brave one you are," she observed casually. "Do you not fear the consequences of tying yourself so tightly to him?"

"The only fear I have is for his safety," Gemma replied sharply, quite tired of the same comments over and over again. "And if you have nothing further to say, I should like to go speak with him."

Caterina laughed, releasing her. "By all means." As she walked away, she could have sworn she made out a comment. "Well, this puts a damper on my plans."

* * *

Every inch of her body itched for some reason – and she was beginning to have vivid recollections of her time in Roma. It was her only solace, those nights she'd wake up screaming, knowing that Ezio was risking his life in order to kill Rodrigo Borgia – the man that showed her what Hell looked like. The fact that he had taken that away … it infuriated her, and she thought it unfair and cruel that he lived still.

"Gemma?" Ezio called out softly, and she saw in the dim candle light that he was in the bath tub, relaxing in the warm water that his mother had prepared for him. "Come here, _cara mia_."

She did not reply, finding no words to voice her frustrations. He smirked, assuming that she did not come for other reasons. "You need not be shy all of a sudden, it is only–"

"Two weeks," she whispered, "I waited patiently for two weeks, and the Spaniard is not dead."

He exhaled sharply. "You must understand that I–!"

"_What is there to understand_?" she demanded, her voice going up an octave. "How dare you? I do not ask for many things, Ezio, but the _one thing_ I asked for – you cannot do that much?"

"_Please_, Gemma, you must hear me out and listen to–!"

"_NO_!" Gemma practically screeched. All she could think about was the pain in that God forsaken hole, the screams that she realized were her own. "I was stuck in that goddamn place for _days_ – they didn't give me food or water. They … for _days_ he …" she clutched herself as she trembled, all of the welled up emotion of the ordeal coming right back. She thought she'd repressed it, but it didn't seem to be enough. Nothing ever seemed to help her forget.

At that point, Ezio had gotten out of the bath, his trousers back on. He stared at her with pained eyes, unsure of what to do to comfort her.

"Gemma …"

She fell to her knees, tears gathering in her eyes. "I can sometimes still see it," she whispered in a small voice. "I can feel the lashings … the words he said to me. Day in and day out. I wanted to die, Ezio – I had never wanted death _so much_–!"

"Don't talk like that!" he cried softly, joining her on the floor and throwing his arms around her. "It is over now, Gemma. It is all over and it is never happening again."

"How do you know that?" she whispered, her voice thick. "He could just as easily find me again and … and …"

"_Never_," Ezio vowed darkly in her ear. "Do you hear me, Gemma? _Mai più_!"

"There was another one with them," she said in a broken voice, her fingers closing into fists on his chest. "Cesare Borgia. He … he put his fingers …" she could not even muster the sense to finish the sentence, but by the way he stiffened, she knew that he understood. And the recollection of such a humiliating memory sent her over the edge, and sobs heaved up from her chest, clutching onto him as if he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the world.

He said nothing. Merely held her and rocked back in forth in a steady motion, a fury like never before manifesting in the pits of his heart. This Cesare Borgia dare defile her?

"_Mi dispiace_," he whispered, unable to think of anything else. "Cesare Borgia, you said? I'll ki–!"

"No!" She pushed into him with so much force, he ended up pinned on his back. "All I care about is that you're here, Ezio. Not somewhere else. Just _here_." And then she bent down and kissed him with enough desperation to render him motionless for a few moments. He responded soon enough, wrapping his arms around her.

Within a split second, she was pinned on her back. Ezio's face was unreadable, but she could tell what he wanted. "I can erase his touch, you know. Make it that such a thing is the very last thing on your mind."

Her cheeks warmed. It wasn't the first time they'd done this – _that_ was in Paola's brothel, and it was extraordinarily fast-paced. Ezio did not have much time that day, and he was an impatient man in _normal_ circumstances.

Suddenly, he spoke again, breaking her reverie. "Take off your dress."

Her eyes widened. "Ezio, we're on the floor."

"And?" He honestly seemed to care less, and she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. She gave him a hard look, and he rolled his eyes. Without a word, the both of them stood to their feet, watching each other for the catalyst in their movement. After roughly three seconds, he lifted her up and slammed her down on the comforter. Expert fingers reached behind and unlaced her dress. He held her gaze the entire time, daring her to do something.

He tore the cloth off of her, tossing it effortlessly to the ground. He was actually being mindful of the fact that she'd probably want to get dressed the following morning, and she appreciated that.

"You look frightened," he commented with a playful smirk, trailing a finger down the thin chemise that was separating him from the rest of her body. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and she was sure he could hear the hammering of her heart.

She smiled tersely, nonetheless. "Not really."

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but was through with talking, bending down and giving her a fierce kiss on the lips as his hands began to wander, trailing up under her dress and across her soft skin. The rough pads of his hands somehow made her even more insane, and she inhaled sharply when two hands grabbed a hold of her breasts, kneading the flesh there.

She arched into his every touch, simultaneously hating and loving how he could do such things to her. Gemma was slightly embarrassed at the sounds that were involuntarily escaping her lips, but she didn't care enough to control herself.

All she cared about was this man. The one who, for over two decades, had driven her mad with love, lust, and hate. All at once.

"You're mine," he whispered harshly against her skin as he positioned himself. "No one can hurt you, no one can touch you – understand that I am willing to kill anyone who tries to take you from me, Gemma."

Despite how serious he was, she chuckled softly. "I love you, too."

He smiled, nipping at her collar bone. "_Tu sei mia_ – _per sempre_."

A lilting smile stretched across her lips as the both of them were carried off into oblivion, their breath and bodies in perfect synchronization with each other.

* * *

**A/N:** **Whew. That was a bit tedious. See, I'm … not very good at sex scenes due to the fact that I don't write them very often. Lolol. But I promise in the sequel, things'll get much steamier and I'll go into more detail than this. ;D Thank you for being patient with me, everyone! I know I'm shit at doing things on time, but I'll try to stay on track. And yes, I know it's a bit sappy, but dammit I don't do sappy very often and sometimes, life is sappy. **

_**Italian to English**_**:**

_**Nipote**_**: Nephew.**

_**Ma adesso non c'é niente da fare**_**: But there's nothing I can do about it now.**

_**Sei pazzo**_**?: Are you crazy?**

_**Tu sei mia – per sempre**_**: You're mine – forever.**


End file.
